Earlytale: Midnight's Gaze
by sionslayer66
Summary: In 197X, the Barrier was opened. For four decades monsters and humans have lived in peace with one another, cherishing the rekindled bond between their peoples. Now, in the year 201X, a dark and cruel power awaits in the sleepy town of Crystal Bay. A power that twists and corrupts those in its grasp, stealing the soul forever. And to everyone's horror, it's a single human child.
1. Past Curfew

_A long time ago…_

Two eyes of a child peeped out of swaddling darkness, focused steadily forwards at what they saw ahead. They were young, keen, but nearly blind in the stone catacomb they'd found themselves in.

A single ghostly light shone down into the midnight chamber's abyss. It twinkled with an almost silver glow and illuminated the path just enough for the child not to be entirely lost in such a desolate place.

In the light's center, a figure sat perched atop a large stone throne. Long, almost skeletal arms spread out across its surface with thin bent knees poking up like jagged sticks. It was draped in tattered robes, obsidian cloth that seemed to absorb the spindly figure like a shroud. The stone helm was faced away from where the child stood, concealing the figure's face.

"Come forward, child," an emerald voice called from the perch. "I know you are there."

The child gasped in surprise, prompting the voice to chuckle coarsely. "Do not be afraid. I am happy you have chosen to visit me, contrary to your father's wishes of course."

The child stepped out into the light, revealing the short body of one not a year past twelve with a head of ink-black hair. "He said you were ill, that you needed to be left alone," the child looked away, "that you were dying."

"And yet I still live. But what he told you is not entirely untrue, child. I am fading away. My magic can keep my form alive only to a point. If you were to look upon my body in its entirety, you would see that of a walking corpse, kept together only by the soul's will."

The child looked down at the floor sullenly. "Is that why Father has you stay down here in the tombs, to hide yourself?"

"No," the figure said as it brought an ancient hand to the child's shoulder. "A being of my years has no right to walk among the living. This darkness this mausoleum is where I belong. And once my final plight is completed my body will finally rest among the truly dead."

"Plight?" The child echoed. "What more do you have to do, grandfather?"

The figure reached into its sweeping garments and gradually pulled out a small trinket deep within the robe's folds. It was golden in color, metallic in texture, with what appeared to be two small pyramids sealed together at the bases. It was threaded through with a thin chain that wrapped around the figure's bony fingers like water. He held it out for the child to see. The precious object glimmered in the pale light.

"Hold out your hand," the figure commanded gently.

The child did as they were told. The thin, ghoulish fingers dropped the trinket into the child's palm and closed their grip around it.

The figure sighed deeply. "It is now yours."

"What is it, grandfather?"

"A legacy, both mine and yours. I held it with me when the Great Barrier was sealed over Ebbot, when the greatest threat to our world was extinguished forever. I clutched it so tightly that day the marks it left are still evident across my hands. Ever since then I've always kept it with me, always made sure that not another soul would come into possession of such a thing. But today that changes."

"I don't understand, grandfather. Why give this to me? Why not my father? Or my siblings?"

"Because unlike them I have sensed the potential within you. When I pass, magic in humanity will too. But within you, somewhere, I can tell that it still festers, too stubborn to disappear entirely from our veins."

The figure tapped the child's still closed palm. "This is the key. Never, no matter what the cost may be, lose what I have given you. With it, you carry the destiny of wizards." He pointed an ancient finger out into the darkness. "Now go, child. And do not speak of this encounter."

The child nodded their head dutifully and clamored back out of the light. However, just before they entirely disappeared, they turned back around. "Grandfather...is this goodbye?"

"No child," the figure called from a great distance, his voice growing fainter and fainter, "I'll always be close."

* * *

 _Present day_

"ME-OOOOWWW!"

Croix was awoken to the horrid cry of what he initially thought was a cross between a waterborne cow and the chattering crackle of a sentient robot entertainer. But, as his still groggy mind began to piece together the plans that had been made earlier in the week, a small, golden glowing smile of recognition appeared on his shadowy face.

His large, equally glowing monster eyes blinked rapidly as quieted excitement began to overcome his small frame. The dark brown cloth that accounted for his body and as well concealed his shadowed form, minus his face, wiggled in anticipation as another escapade was about to begin.

Pushing the bedcovers off of himself, he floated across his darkened bedroom floor to the window beside his dresser. Opening it carefully, he peered out at his moonlit front lawn while searching keenly for the source of the twisted but telltale signal.

"ME-OOOOWWW!" The bellow sounded again from just below him. Looking down, his eyes met with that of a smiling human boy standing by a parked bicycle.

Without a word, Croix evened himself past the window sill and slid the rest of the way out, hovering gradually to the blue-black grass below without even the slightest bit of effort or strain. He landed a few feet away from the human, who seemed to jitter in enthusiasm the moment he touched down.

"How'd you like my cat call?" the boy asked eagerly. "Pretty convincing, eh?"

The human was of equal age to Croix with the markings of childhood youth clearly written across his fair-skinned face. His hair was a brightened shade of chestnut with sapphire eyes that could just barely be made out in the relative darkness. He was dressed for an early autumn night, long pants complimenting a simple grey t-shirt.

"Not really," Croix replied in a calm but kind tone, one that emulated a certain level of gentle introversion. "I could still tell it was you, Landen."

Landen seemed undeterred by this and just shook his head in happy defeat. "Ah well, maybe I'll get you next time." He walked over to the standing bicycle and perched himself on the seat, patting the handlebars with a quick look to his friend. "Hop on. Orne is probably almost done setting up."

Croix moved over to the bike and sat atop where he'd been motioned to. Normally, the human would've had trouble seeing over somebody who was in his direct line of sight. But Croix's minuscule height made travelling by bike all the much safer for them as well as convenient.

"You ready?" Landen asked with a glance over his friend's shoulder.

Croix gripped the metal rungs of the handlebars with both sides of his cloak and nodded. "Ready."

At that, Landen began to vigorously pedal across the short lawn and onto the adjacent sidewalk, propelling the both of them into the night.

Landen whizzed down the darkened residential streets, the sleepy treelined neighborhoods dimly lit by the occasional hazy orange streetlight. No cars were out at a time like this which gave them variable freedom whenever crossing an intersection or one-way road without even a forethought of checking if anybody was coming.

"Orne's been working on this one for almost a month," the human shouted over the whirl of their speed-induced wind. "It was real hard for him to get ahold of all the right wires and stuff. Had to buy a lot of it off the internet."

"That must have cost him a fair amount of money," Croix said at a raised speaking voice. "How does he keep on being able to afford all this?"

"Babysitting mostly."

"What about all the money he got when he worked at _Cesare's_?"

"Gone. Spent all of it on either projects he never finished or his girlfriend." He shrugged ironically. "The life of a former minimum wage supermarket juicer is a tough one after all."

Croix laughed. "Yeah, I would think so."

It took a few more minutes of rapid pedalling before they were able to reach their intended destination: Crystal Bay Beach. The sleepy town's beachfront was known as one of the highest quality public spaces in the county and was home to some of the most fun any paying customer could hope for.

But now that it was Autumn with the temperature rapidly decreasing the only highlight the space held now was the massive pavement hill that sloped down from the park up above to the sandy beach down below. 'Real' bicyclists had long used the hill as a training ground for proper conditioning and exercising, careening down the paved mountain with the only intention of getting back to the top.

The kids of Crystal Bay were much more knowledgeable to the slope's real purpose. A geographic landmark of that design was meant to be sped down, meant to be travelled at the greatest possible velocity with an utter disregard to the consequences. Control and timing was what made the hill so safe and only a handful of the less-experienced younger crowd wherever the ones that got hurt on such an obstacle.

Bounding across the parking lot, Landen took a hard left past the entrance gate into the beach and straight down the waiting slope without preamble.

The blasting wind was incredible, the rushing landscape exhilarating. It was like being in a vortex but still travelling forwards. It was like flying but still being grounded. Despite going down the hill numerous times in both their lifetimes the two boys never quite got over just how amazing it was.

"Maybe we should slow down," Croix said finally as he noticed that Landen wasn't even pressing on the brakes yet.

"What?!" the human called back.

"Brakes."

"I have brakes!"

"I mean 'hit the brakes'. We're almost at the bottom."

"What?!"

Rolling his eyes, Croix reached over to the twin set of brakes on each side of the handlebars and pressed down firmly, making sure to tighten his grip on them as the inertia began to whip at them.

Slowly but surely the bike came to a halt at the hill's end, rubber hissing as they pulled up at the twilight beach before them. Kicking the stand up, Landen hopped off the bike and immediately began to inspect the tires.

"I think we were going too fast," he stated without irony. "Looks like some of the rubber got peeled off when we braked. I'll have to ask Orne to fix those. Speaking of which..." he peered down the almost vacant landscape save for a single shadowed silhouette at its edge. "There he is now."

The two made their way across the sand over to the dune's center point, where a small wooden ramp had been hastily constructed with its front pointed out towards the calm water. The silhouette stood by the construct with two items clutched in its hands while it fumbled with a third between its forearms. Alerted to their presence, the figure immediately dropped its materials and turned around to the face them.

"Well-well-well, nice to see that you two could finally make it," a tall, lanky human remarked with a smug smirk. "I was just about to fire off the first test launch before you guys decided to get here."

"That isn't what it looked like to me, Orne," Landen responded flatly to his brother.

"Looks can be deceiving."

Orne, while sharing several of the same facial characteristics to Landen, was still significantly different to the observer. His body type was much lighter than Landen's with several additional inches triggered by both him being the older of to two but as well as his differing proportions. His facial complexion as well was much redder, especially around the cheeks, displaying the quality of an almost perpetual sunburn that refused to heal. Another noticeable quality was his head of quite curly dirty-blonde hair, a stark contrast to the uniform brown and waviness of his brother.

Landen crossed his arms at his brother's lack of progress, evidently expecting the exposition to be ready once they got there. "Are you even close to having everything set up?"

Orne swiped two of the three objects off the ground and brandished both for them to see. One was a standard RC remote controller. The other was a heavily modified miniature electric car that had a large metal turbine crudely welded to the back.

"I was just making some last minute touches on the rocket car," he explained. "The signal between the controller and the battery has to be just right for the engine to properly start up. If not, we'll have a dud, and I'll have to buy another set of transfer wires for the current to be received."

"Is that a car battery?" Croix asked with a gesture down to the third, blocky object at Orne's feet.

The human nodded. "Yes, yes it is. It's the only thing that I could find that has enough power to spur an engine of that size in such a short period."

"Or the only thing you can afford," Landen muttered. "But how exactly is this all gonna work, though? You said it'd be able to take off all by itself."

Orne grinned. "It's funny that you ask that. How about I show you?" He took a few steps toward the ramp and held the remote controller up for both of them to see, motioning to a large red button at the center of the panel.

"Now, I won't blind you with science, so I'll try to keep this simple for you two." He cleared his throat. "When I push this button the car battery," he gestured to it, "will send a massive surge of electricity into the car's engine, here. This surge of electricity will ignite the fuel inside the engine and propel the car out into the water at least by a mile. Now, are you kids ready?"

Croix and Landen instinctively took a few steps back. Landen gave him a thumbs up.

"Do you think that thing is safe?" Croix asked with his gaze fixed on Orne as he began attaching wires from the battery to the car.

Landen shook his head. "Probably not."

"Maybe you should warn him then."

"It wouldn't do anything. He's come this far; he's not about to change his mind. Besides, the worse he's ever gotten out of his projects was when he got synthetic sand stuck in his eye, and the ophthalmologist was able to get that out pretty quick."

"Okay..." the monster said without any further objection.

"Alright!" Orne announced in triumphant. "She's ready!" He hovered his finger over the center button. "In 5...4...3...2...1..."

At the moment the button was grazed the rocket car exploded in an instant, knocking Orne back several yards from the resulting shockwave and sending out a small puff of grey smoke as it was vaporized instantly. The sound echoed across the water like a thunderclap and giving the impression that a bomb had just gone off.

"Oh my gosh!" Landen yelled as he sprinted over to where Orne lied, Croix close behind him. As they ran, they could see Landen's brother gradually rise from his sprawled position and dust himself down, ignoring their approach and instead focusing on the black spot of ash where the car had once sat.

"There goes seventy-six dollars of work," he lamented stoically. "I was sure that'd shoot off. I wonder what wrong?"

"Orne, are you okay?" Landen said while looking his brother over for any sign of injury. "That explosion was pretty loud..."

"I'll be okay. The loudness of explosions doesn't determine effectiveness anyway. I read that online." He sighed. "But I'll just clean up and head home. And, uh, Landen...will you promise not to tell Mom this happened?"

* * *

"Well that was a little disappointing," Landen remarked as he pedaled back to Croix's house.

"Maybe it'll work next time," the monster suggested in subdued optimism.

"I doubt they'll be a next time. Orne's probably moved onto another project he hasn't told me about. My brother's a lot of things, but sneaky is definitely one of them. He's been doing stuff like this for years and my parents still haven't caught him."

"He must be pretty good at hiding them then. I know Tacit would've never been able to pull something like that on my parents."

"How is your brother by the way? It's been awhile since you talked about him ."

Croix shrugged. "He's called a few times, but he's mostly been sticking to himself after he left for college. He's supposed to be coming home for Fall Break. I'm not sure when that'll happen."

Tacit was Croix's significantly older brother, so old in fact that he'd gone off to college just before the start of the school year. He'd never been as adventurous or intuitive as Landen's brother, but he was an insightful, somewhat cautious sibling who'd been with him since before he was born. It'd been tough getting used to such an empty house after he left and Croix was still having difficulty reminding himself that his brother would be back soon.

"Well, looks like we're here," Landen announced as he halted the bike in front of Croix's house. "Sorry for this not being everything we'd thought it'd be."

Croix floated off the handlebars. "You don't have to be sorry. We still had fun. I'm more concerned with how Orne is actually."

"He'll be fine, don't worry. If something is serious, I'll get him to come clean with our parents and they'll take him to the hospital. But trust me, Orne's a pretty indestructible guy."

The monster flashed a small grin. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Landen began to pedal forwards while waving goodbye. "I'll see you at school tomorrow!" he called.

Croix watched as the human sped off down the street. A few moments later he made a turn at the nearest intersection and was out of sight. Smiling to himself, the little monster floated back towards his house, content with another well spent evening.


	2. Friends Like These

Croix waded through the small crowd of human and monster children clustered by the side door leading outside. His variable size made it easy to pass through the swirl of other kids as they pushed their way out the door and into the gentle noontime light of recess.

He made his way across the wide blacktop pathway that led around to the massive recreational field of Crystal Bay Junior High and over to a cluster of shady trees just at the field's edge. As he hovered across the grass he could make out four figures standing under the trees, a single one announcing something excitedly while the rest listened.

"-and then the car just exploded!" Landen said while thrusting his arms into the air for added effect. "Bits of metal flew everywhere, the engine was like a fireball, and my brother was thrown like fifty feet backwards right into the sand! I swear, it totally sounded like a bomb had gone off or something."

"No way," a female, red furred rabbit monster with droopy ears said in disbelief. "A little car like that couldn't have made an explosion that big."

"You can't doubt facts, Lilja," the human replied stubbornly. "The explosion was _massive_."

"It is a bit unbelievable," agreed a spectacled blonde human male by the name of Colwyn. "Like, why wasn't your brother hurt when he was standing right next to it?"

"Did your brother get hurt at all?" a female monster named Wist, who looked like a walking stock of cauliflower with a small face in its center, asked in concern. "I know he's done stuff like this before but...you never know…"

Landen frowned at his friend's collective distrust or detraction from his story. "He's fine but he really was thrown back like that. Maybe not _exactly_ fifty feet but it still was pretty-" the human, noticing Croix's approach, turned around mid-sentence and smiled at his friend's timely arrival. "Croix, good to see you."

"Hey Croix," Wist greeted cheerily. "Where were you at lunch?"

"I was helping Ms. Velltri with the stage setup," he replied in a quiet voice.

Lilja snapped her fingers in recognition. "Oh yeah, the the drama class's play is coming up this month, right?"

He nodded.

"Dude, that's awesome! What production are you guys gonna do this year?"

" _The Lonely Wizard_."

"I remember seeing the movie version of that one," Colwyn chimed in, looking to everybody else. "It's about this old wizard who's looking for a proper replacement before he dies. There was some really cool action in it."

Croix shrugged. "Ms. Velltri thinks the stage production is better. But I haven't seen the movie so I wouldn't know."

"But what Croix _does_ know," Landen cut in, "was that the rocket car explosion _was_ massive and it _did_ throw my brother super far back. He was standing right next to me and saw it all happen in real time. Isn't that right, dude?"

Croix, seeing the desperate expectation in his friend's eyes, nodded his head. "The car's explosion was very large."

Landen gestured madly with his hands. "See!? I told you guys. And I bet you thought I was lying."

"You have before," Colwyn said with a roll of his eyes. "Like that whole 'trip' to Safari Land that never happened."

"I wasn't lying when I said that! I actually thought we'd be able to go until my aunt told me she couldn't drive us there. I still have the tickets printed out if you need proof."

"We believe you, Landen. Don't worry." Lilja said diplomatically, sensing the rising tension between the two human boys.

They looked to one another for a brief moment, both holding the other's gaze before eventually nodding in close unison.

As the group stood there, begining to chat passively among things that weren't of debatable credibility, a large conclave of about ten other students walked across the field just a few yards away.

They were nestled close to one another, moving as an almost singular unit at a uniform pace. They were a varying mix of monster and human, male and female, but all wearing deeply black colored clothing that contrasted harshly against the tender sun above. Despite their melancholy appearance though, each member of the cluster spoke loudly amongst themselves, frequently giggling and joking like any other social circle at school.

What stuck out about them (past their clothing) was the strange looking human boy at the cluster's center, all attention seemingly focused on whatever he was saying.

He was short, significantly for a boy of his apparent age, with ink black hair and pale white skin that appeared almost translucent in the sunlight. He wore the same dark clothing as the rest of the group but with a bit more regalness and class to its styling. A set of circular lensed, mirrored glasses were as well perched on the bridge of his nose, fully concealing his eyes.

"I didn't know the goth clique was that big," Landen remarked as he observed the odd group pass. "Last time I checked there was only four of them."

"That's Aamodt group of friends," Wist explained as if he should already have known.

"Aamodt?"

Lilja nodded. "He's new this year. Transferred from some boarding school way out east. Or at least, that's what people say. I've never talked with him before but he seems to have done pretty well for himself considering all the friends he's made."

"He doesn't talk with anyone in theater though," Croix added.

Wist looked to Landen with a raised eyebrow. "You really haven't noticed him in the past month?"

The human shrugged. "Guess not. I tend to block out a lot of the stuff about school that isn't fun."

"Which we know for you is most of it," Colwyn muttered.

Landen glared at the other human but continued. "But as I was about to say before Croix got here, my brother has another surprise to show off and all of you guys are invited to see it."

"Another project of his?" Lilja said. "Even after one literally exploded in his face last night he already has something ready?"

"He works fast when wants to. But this new one in particular has taken him awhile. He's been vague with me on exactly what it is but promises it'll be the best one yet."

"You said the say same thing about the rocket car," Colwyn reminded.

"Yeah, and maybe it would've been better if you'd actually bothered to show up."

"Did you honestly expect anyone to sneak out of their house in the dead of night just to see a little car get shot into the water? That's not exactly the most interesting thing in the world."

"Croix came."

"That's one person," Colwyn shot back. "And I bet the only reason he came was because you gave him a ride there. You didn't offer anyone else a ride."

"Guys," Lilja said with her arms raised defensively while looking to the both of them. "Just calm down, okay? You shouldn't be fighting each other like this."

The two humans held another hostile gaze with one another, both unwavering in the disdain they projected to the other. It was at that moment that the going in bell rang, signalling a massive and sudden exodus of everyone out on the field to dash to the side door back into the school.

The group of friends slowly began to walk back, Landen keeping a slight distance from everybody else with an exception to Croix.

"The offer still stands if any of you wanna come," he said flatly. "My house, after school, I'll be in front of my garage."

No one said anything past that, the small circle splitting off in separate directions once inside the school.


	3. Heck on Wheels

Croix hovered down the familiar sidewalk path he'd taken so many times before. The afternoon sun was gradually beginning to dip down below the soft suburban treeline but the day was still far from the night.

Landen hadn't been at the group's usual waiting spot during after-school pickup, which gave Croix reason to believe the human was still shaken up over the exchange between Colwyn at recess. This wouldn't be his first instance of purposeful isolation and certainly wouldn't be the last. But what Croix could tell out of these scenarios that the rest of his friends never could was that there was always a deeper reason behind it and not just preteen dramatics.

Landen's early departure home also meant getting to his house by himself instead of hitching a ride on his handlebars like usual. Croix was a little bit peeved over the lack of consideration for such a thing on his friend's part but reminded himself that Landen probably didn't mean anything by it. He'd just wanted to get away from school as quickly as possible.

Stopping at a large, red-bricked house, Croix floated up the driveway leading to a closed connecting garage and a waiting Landen standing in front of it.

"So I guess the rest of the gang couldn't make it," he greeted with a weak smile. "That's alright. We'll have more fun without them."

"Are you okay?" Croix asked sincerely, sensing melancholy in his friend's words. "Things seemed kind of tense after recess."

He sighed. "I'll be fine. You how this stuff goes. I get into a fight with someone; I spend some time alone, and I'm back with the everyone in no time. It's no big deal, really."

Croix wasn't entirely convinced by this but chose to drop the subject. Landen didn't sound in the mood to have a serious discussion, and the last thing he wanted was for him to feel any worse than he already did. So instead, he said: "What exactly is your brother showing us this time?"

Landen's face brightened slightly at the change of subject. "Believe it or not, Orne's keeping a tight lid on this one. No sketches, no design descriptions. Even his bragging has been vague about whatever the heck he's building. But according to him this morning 'It'll be cool'."

"So just after last night with the rocket car he's already onto another project? That was fast."

"Something tells me he's been working on this longer than he's letting on. Remember, with his insomnia he's spent entire nights awake which gives him a lot more free time than your average high school student."

"Is he back yet?"

Landen nodded while gesturing to the closed garage door. "My mom dropped him off an hour ago. He's still setting up inside. Speaking of which…" he pounded his fist against the metal door and shouted inside. "Orne! Croix is here! Are you ready yet?!"

There was a clamoring of tools from past the door followed by Orne's voice shouting back. "Just a minute, I'm almost done!"

"That means at least five," Landen said as he turned back around. "But while we have some time, how has _The Lonely Wizard_ been going? I've been seeing more of the posters advertising it around school."

The monster smiled in subdued excitement. "We're getting close to being finished with our regular practice run-throughs. Ms. Velltri already placed the order for the costumes so we should have our first dress rehearsal by next week. Everybody's excited for it."

Landen nudged his friend playfully. "You sound excited too, dude. You did awesome last year in _Once Upon A Time_ , but I bet you'll do even better this year."

"I'm just a supporting character," he blushed.

"A supporting character who just so happens to be King Narmont's most trusted adviser, Crispus. A supporting character who wants to maintain order in the Kingdom of Chesira no matter the cost. A supporting character who's willing to sacrifice his life to save the people he's sworn to protect."

Croix grinned. "I take it you've seen the movie?"

"Heck yeah, I did. Zabel Wherner was amazing in the part."

"Well, I may not be able to top his performance but I'll-"

It was at that moment that the mechanical whirl of the garage's electronic motors began to sound, the shuttered door slowly ascending from its rested position and revealing the interior it had been blocking. It was vacant of any cars. Instead, a haphazard assortment of tools and mechanical spare parts lie strewn across the grey concrete floor. A workstation sat in the chamber's center, a dissected but familiar looking bicycle parked next to it and a familiar looking human standing proudly by both.

It took Landen a second to take in everything that was going on. Once it registered in his brain, the color slowly drained from his face. "Orne...w-what're doing to my bike?"

"Upgrading it," his brother replied. "I realized how often you use it to get around so I thought you'd need a few modifications to make things a bit easier. Not only that, I needed a little practice with conventional engine structuring."

"But I didn't ask you to work on my bike," Landen said in frustration. "I just asked for you to fix the tires whenever you got the chance. I didn't count on you," he gestured to the husk of his bike, "doing whatever you're doing."

"I'm adding an engine to it, Landen. Can't you tell? When I'm done with the proper conversions you'll have a specially crafted motorized bicycle, or a motorbike if you want to sound cooler."

"That doesn't look very much like a motorcycle engine," Croix pointed out with a gesture to the unrecognizable pile of parts atop the table.

Orne smiled at the statement. "I'm glad you noticed, Croix. Yes, I couldn't get my hands on an actual cycle engine, but I think the substitute I found will work well enough, as long as you don't push it that hard."

"What kind of substitute are you using?"

"Well, our grandparents have an old rideable lawnmower from like thirty years ago that's just been sitting in their garage. On our family's last trip out there I took a few...key components from it while still leaving the outside chassis intact."

Landen crossed his arms stoutly. "And you didn't even consider telling grandma or grandpa you were taking it? What if they decide to use it or give it to someone? And a lawnmower engine, are you sure that'll even work?"

"Course it will. If it can move a big cart that can cut grass that it can definitely move a ten-speed bike with two kids on it."

"But can it do it safely?" Croix asked.

"I would think so. I haven't run into any major design flaws past caked in dust and a little bit of rust. After I'm done with assembly," he patted the bike's front wheel, "you two will be riding around Crystal Bay in style."

"Is that it then?" Landen said. "Would you want us to take it out for a little practice run?"

Orne raised an eyebrow sardonically. "Does this thing look ready? I'll need at _least_ another day to get everything into working order and then you _might_ be able to try it out. Maybe."

Landen turned to Croix. "I guess it's good everyone else didn't show up. They wouldn't be too happy about not seeing the bike in action."

"Your other friends are a bunch of jerks," Orne added as he began to get back to work on the motorbike.

"Yeah, but they're my jerks, so I'm stuck with it." He looked back to Croix. "It looks like I won't be able to give you a ride home since my bike is still in surgery. Would you want me to call my mom and she can drive you home when she gets back?"

The monster shook his head. "I can just walk-float-back. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See ya, dude."


	4. Before the Storm

By the time Croix got back to his house it had already gotten dark. Entering through the front door, he placed his backpack on the entryway rug and hovered into the kitchen. The television was on, with his mom floating comfortably over a leather armchair and watching _The Chauffeur and The Chauffeured_ on TV.

She resembled Croix quite closely, with the shroud concealing her shadowy form a brightened beige over his dark brown. Her eyes and mouth were a glowing blue to his yellow with a figure that was slightly larger than her son. Past that, they were nearly identical, even by monster standards.

"Hi, Croie," his mom welcomed with a smile and his younger sounding nickname. "How was your time at Landen's?"

He floated over to the refrigerator and pushed the door open with a slight nudge of wind magic. "It was okay," he said while grabbing a plate of leftovers and closing the door with another arcane push. "He just showed me what his brother was building and then we went our separate ways." He set himself down on the countertop table facing towards his mom and began to eat.

"What did you do afterward then? You were gone for close to an hour."

"Landen wasn't able to give me a ride on his bike, so I had to get home by myself. And I...may have taken a wrong turn at one point."

"Oh my goodness! Why wasn't Landen able to give you ride home? Is he alright?"

"He's okay, Orne's just fitting his bike with a lawnmower engine to make it faster. He still has to do some work on it."

Croix's mom grinned and shook her head. "Those Fonten boys are one wild duo. You know, I haven't spoken with Mrs. Fonten for at least a month now. Is _she_ alright?"

He shrugged. "Landen doesn't talk about his family all that often, save for Orne."

"That's a shame," she sighed, "especially considering his younger brother. Mrs. Fonten always-"

"Landen doesn't talk about that either," Croix cut in, trying to end the subject of conversation there.

"Does he only mention it with you? Has he told anybody else in your group?"

"He's mentioned him a few times, okay? But I doubt he's told anybody else. Now could we please drop this, though? It's kind of a private matter with him."

"Croie," his mom said in a voice that preambles a lecture, "I'm not trying to be prying with this. I just think that maybe, if he ever does talk about it, try to be encouraging instead of helping him push the topic away. I bet it's on his mind more than he lets on."

Croix couldn't quite confirm or deny that statement. Landen, as rambunctious and energetic as he could be, was surprisingly tight-lipped when it came to matters that transcended typical camaraderie. He always tried to keep things between them, and them only, pushing the rest of the world out of the equation.

Then again, Croix was largely the same, burying most of his expressiveness when confronted with larger social settings or any situation perceived as 'unsafe.' Perhaps this similarity was what had kept them together for so long and had ensured a mutual need of singularity, something that typically wouldn't have been expected among junior high schoolers of their age.

But he wasn't in the mood for divulging information that his friend would prefer to be left unspoken, even though his mom kept in appropriate contact with Landen's. Which gave her, at least, some insight into what he was coping with.

Croix, finished with his meal, brought the dishes over to the kitchen sink and began to rinse them out. "I still have some homework to do tonight," he called over to her as he washed, "so I'll be up in my room if you need me."

His mom, looking disappointed that they couldn't talk further, nodded her head. "Okay, I'll be down here if you need me."

In truth, Croix could've just saved the minor work he had for his study hall period the next day. But he felt the need to do something, to not quite put his nerves to rest just yet. He enjoyed being busy and felt more relaxed when actively doing something with his hands. And so, lugging his backpack up the stairs, he quietly closed his bedroom door behind him and began quietly began the night's busy-work.

* * *

The next morning, while eating breakfast, a frantic knocking came against Croix's front door. With a perturbed look, his mom looked up from her coffee.

"Who in the world could be here this early? It's barely 7:45."

Croix sighed restlessly, a wide smile forming on his lips. "I have an idea." He slid out of his chair and zoomed into the front entryway. Opening the door, he was met with the equally smiling Landen whose hair looked like it'd just been sucked into a jet turbine.

"It happened," he announced with emphasis on each syllable. "Orne finished _it_."

The little monster's glowing eyes widened. "He did? How?"

"Another bout of his insomnia. Was up the entire night tinkering with it and surprised me this morning with the finished product. I swear it was like Christmas morning times a million."

Croix looked over the human's shoulder. "Where is it?"

The human stepped to the side, revealing the parked bike right behind where he stood on the front walk. "Ta-da."

It was practically the same ten-speed bike the two had been riding around Crystal Bay for years. The only difference now was the boxy metallic lawnmower component crudely welded on among the bike's gears. An additional chain connected the jury-rigged engine with the back wheel while a kick starter pointed awkwardly out from its side. In short, the bike looked fantastic.

"He certainly spared no expense on presentation," Croix remarked ironically.

Landen shrugged. "It's his first time working with stuff like this. I'm sure he'll get better at the elegant parts of building...if he doesn't lose interest first." He paused. "Anyway! Wanna take it for a spin? I could give you a ride to school if you want."

"Mom!" Croix called across the house. "Can Landen give me a ride to school?!"

"But you didn't even finish breakfast!" His mom called back. "Your Mettaton Squares are getting soggy."

"That's okay! I'll just eat some of my lunch first period."

There was a brief silence as his mom pondered the request. "Alright," she stated in defeat, "just please be careful!"

"I will!"

"Hi, Mrs. Thurii!" Landen shouted through the still open door as Croix dashed inside to get his backpack.

"Oh, Landen, hello! How have you been? How's school so-?"

"Bye Mom!" Croix gave one final shout as he whizzed out the door and slammed it behind him excitedly. "I'm ready!"

Landen grinned. "Okay, okay, settle down. You sound like me again." He strutted over to the waiting bicycle and seated himself.

Without invitation, Croix giddily perched himself onto the handlebars and gripped the metal rungs in anticipation. "Let's do this."

"Copy that." Landen began speaking with a rising action to his words. "Dude, prepare yourself for one of the greatest, most exciting, most thrilling, most dangerous, closest thing we'll get to driving a car until we're sixteen, trips of your entire life. To Crystal Bay Junior High, we ride!"

At that moment, he brought a sharp heel down on the bike's starter, grinding the the internal gears to start. But instead of starting, the attached chain sputtered in place as a clattering of disjointed metal followed from inside the device.

"C'mon…" Landen mumbled as he kicked the starter once again. "If this thing dies on us now…" It took a few more successive kicks for the engine to finally gurgle to life, shooting out a spurt of gray exhaust as Landen revved the bike's engine in triumph.

"Got it!" He announced over the growling motors. "Now, are you ready, Croix?"

"Landen, I was ready fifteen minutes ago."

"Then we ride!"

At that instance Landen gunned it, shooting the bike forward across Croix's lawn and out onto the sidewalk. Within seconds, they were gone.


	5. Emergence

Landen undid the latch on his locker and sighed. Another school day was turning out to be a long one.

In close succession, he'd been hit with a tiresome gauntlet of geometry, social studies, and chemistry, one right after another. He'd left his last class with a drained mind and a sense of dread hanging heavy on his chest. He was confident he'd gotten a 'C' on his lab report for that day, maybe even a 'D' if he was especially unlucky.

Still, lunch was upon him which would grant some momentary relief before the rest of the day unfolded. From there it would all be a downhill slope for the remainder of the afternoon, just three short hours until the three o'clock bell rang, freeing him from the stuffy confines of institutionalized education. Before then he'd just have to hold on.

Creaking his locker door open, he got down on one knee and unzipped his backpack, dumping books from his previous classes into the small space while exchanging them with other books. He reached to the back of his locker and as well pulled out his hastily made sack lunch, jamming it with equal haste deep into the folds of his backpack.

He was just about to stand up when he was alerted to the approach of someone behind him, prompting him to turn instinctively around to face whomever it was.

A few feet away, adorned in all black clothing with a set of concealing mirror lensed glasses perched on his nose, was a short human male, making a clear path towards where he kneeled.

"Hey!" The human child greeted with confident gusto, stopping just short of Landen's backpack. "What's goin' on man?"

Landen cast a skeptical glance at the stranger.

In the animalistic environment of junior high, someone acting with such blatant friendliness was more than likely doing it based on malice. Bullying was something Landen had experienced his fair share of through the years and held a solid disdain for anyone who still tried to pull that garbage on himself or others.

So, in a flat voice, he replied with a simple: "Fine."

The human in black seemed undeterred by Landen's frosty reception and smiled further. "That's great man. Just a quick question, your name's 'Branden', right?"

"Landen."

"Landen!" the human exclaimed in revelation. "That's your name! Man, there's just so many people at this school it's so tough to remember everybody, you know?"

Landen's face wrinkled in distrustful query as he rose to his feet. As he straightened himself to a standing position, he could see he was several inches taller than the other boy, towering over the vertically challenged young man in an almost menacing manner. Despite this, however, the boy gave no indication of fear or surprise at Landen's much larger size, continuing to smile slyly.

"Do I know you?" He said shortly, focusing his eyes downward at the boy.

The child in black smirked at the question. "C'mon man, I bet you've heard of me."

"I haven't."

"Oh," he replied while furrowing his brow, legitimately taken back by the answer. "I'm Aamodt. I transferred from Newman Prep this year, up north." He paused for a moment, waiting for recognition to appear on Landen's face. He bit his lip restlessly. "Are you sure you haven't heard of me?"

Landen suddenly did recall the description Lilja had given him the day prior and the odd group of similarly dressed students trailing the strange human child. But with the brief revelation he chose not acknowledge what he knew, unwilling to give the other boy the satisfaction.

"Nope, never heard of you until now. Should I've?"

Another smirk. "Well for starters, just about everyone's heard of me. If you ask anybody around school, teacher or kid, they'll know who I am. Why? I'd like to think it's my charming personality and friendly demeanor. But past that, I'm the lead this year in _The Lonely Wizard_ and will probably being trying out for the track team when Spring rolls around. I'd do it right now if I weren't so held up with the play."

Landen would need to consult Croix if the boy was truthful about his claim. He doubted the statement was valid.

He crossed his arms and openly frowned at the child. "Is there a reason you wanted to talk? I kind of need to get to lunch."

"Take it easy," Aamodt grinned with his palms raised in mock defense. "No need to get antsy about this. I just wanted to say that I saw you ride in on that bike of yours this morning, the one with the engine in it. That was a really cool thing you built. I'm not sure if many other people noticed it when you rode in, but I sure did."

"Thanks. My brother built it."

"And what I wanted to ask was if I could borrow it for a few days. Not for keeps or anything. Just maybe for the weekend or something. Two weeks tops. I'd take real good care of and have it back to you when I'm done with it. Promise."

Landen's eyes narrowed coldly. "Did somebody put you up to this? Is this some kind of joke?"

"No way, man. I'm just askin' a friend for a favor. What, are you paranoid or something?"

"I don't know you," he said with a step forward, "which make us, not friends. I also don't know what you're trying to pull, but I'm not gonna be part of it. There're enough jerks at this school already."

Landen turned to leave, but Aamodt promptly blocked him with his body, still smiling behind his dulled glasses. Landen instinctively stopped himself so he wouldn't collide with the other boy but looked less than happy to do so.

"Hold on sec," Aamodt said in an unusually calming voice. "You didn't let me finish."

Normally Landen would've said something like: 'Wonderful' and then storm off without another glance at the student clearly trying to make fun of him. But something was different about how the boy had phrased his sentence, something sincere in his words. It was odd how it wasn't there before, but it appeared his tone had softened slightly, almost to a soothing level that tickled Landen's mind.

"I know a lot of people, Landen. I have a lot of friends. What can I say, I'm a popular guy. And popular guys can do just about anything they want in these hallways if they know enough people. So you letting me borrow your bike is something I'd really be appreciative of and would totally owe you one. Maybe I'd even let you hang out with us sometime. What do you say to that?"

Landen had trouble thinking. His mind was swimming in...something. His concentration and focus were all wrong. His vision swirled every which way as if in a whirlpool. He tried to bring a hand to his face to remind himself just what he was doing, but found that he couldn't will it to do so. He was just so confused, so stunned as to what was even happening as he stood there.

Seeing his lack of an answer, Aamodt smiled. "I can see it's a pretty difficult choice. I bet that bike means a lot to you, huh?" The child in black looked around the hallway to gauge how many people were milling about. There was next to no one. With another smirk, he reached into one of his jacket pockets. "Maybe you'll just need a little extra convincing-"

It was at that moment that Landen gave a slight shudder of his head, surprising Aamodt enough to release whatever he was feeling for in his pockets. Landen's shudder turned with a shake of his head, followed by hands rubbing wearily at his eyes. He yawned deeply as if awakening from a long, dreamless sleep.

Aamodt, looking nervously at the other boy, gave a pained chuckle. "Y-you alright there man? I think you-"

Landen stumbled past the shorter boy, not bothering to even pay attention to what he was trying to be told. He just wanted to get away, fear blooming in his nerves as his senses gradually returned, lack of understanding of what had happened only making him quicker.

He didn't even turn around as he broke into a run, not wanting to meet the dead, spectacled gaze that followed him all the way down the empty linoleum corridor.


	6. In My Mind

Landen was uncharastically quiet at lunch, only tossing in a few words to the stir of lunch table conversation. He as well was muted as he rode Croix home that afternoon. Even the thrill of the motorized bike cruising down the sidewalk didn't seem to incite any strong positive reaction from this.

It was with that that Croix knew something was wrong. Landen only got that subdued when something was drastically out of order for him. He'd seen it only a few times before, mostly when the two of them had been much younger and much more emotionally vulnerable. Now that they were in their ripe years of junior high it meant that internal struggles became something of increasing obscurity, taking the likes of an observant and close individual to accurately identify.

Thankfully, Croix was both, giving him the foresight to see that his human friend was less than well on that particular Thursday afternoon.

As Landen pulled up on the sidewalk outside Croix's house, he gave his friend a weak smile as he floated off the bike's handlebars.

"See you," Landen said at an octave just above a whisper.

"Landen, are you alright?" Croix asked with concern deep in his glowing yellow eyes. "You barely said anything about _Deadliest Fighter_ at lunch, and you didn't even rev the engine while we went down Laris Street. Is everything okay?"

Landen sighed and flipped off the bike's engine. Slumping forward onto the handlebars, he shook his head. "I'm...not doing so good. Something happened at school and I…" His voice trailed off.

"Would you want to go inside and talk about it?"

The human nodded his head graciously. "I would like that very much."

* * *

A few minutes later they sat at Croix's kitchen table, a tray of fudge bars lying before them. Landen had politely placed one onto his plate while Croix had accommodated himself with three.

"Your mom always does make the best fudge," Landen noted as he eyed the sumptuous food without much appetite.

"Is it making you feel a little better?"

"Sort of," the human said with a shrug.

"Do you still want to talk? We don't have to if you don't feel up to it."

Landen shook his head. "No, I need to tell someone this, someone, who might believe me."

"What do you mean?"

Landen retold what had happened in the hallway with him and the mysterious Aamodt. He recalled the dialogue between them almost perfectly, only pausing on one occasion to make sure he was entirely accurate. He described the odd sensation he'd felt when Aamodt spoke to him, doing his best to relay the otherworldly experience without getting too emotional.

But the fear was clear in his words. The confusion palpable in how he described the brief exchange. With startling clarity Landen could remember everything that happened during the ordeal but found it harder to recall what had happened a few minutes after running away, as if some residual link had been broken and needed time to heal. He claimed he felt entirely recovered at the current moment, but Croix could still see traces of fatigue on his mind.

Once he was finished, Landen gave a heavy sigh, burying his head in his hands.

"It felt like my mind was intruded or something," he stated quietly. "Like it was being looked at by someone who shouldn't. For just a few seconds someone else was in control of me, I was just a husk without any conscious of my own. And it took so much out of me too. I was nearly falling asleep in my next class. I couldn't focus or anything, just sit there...quietly, docile. It's a kind of feeling I'm never gonna be able to forget."

Landen tightened his fists suddenly, fire appearing in his eyes. "And it's all because of that Aamodt freak! He did something to me. I know it. I felt fine before he came up to me, before he talked in that _voice_."

"What do you think he did exactly?" Croix asked.

Landen blushed, not quite knowing how to answer. "W-Well, I don't know for sure. My head's been fuzzy for a majority of the day. It's been hard to grasp at anything concrete. Do you have any ideas?"

"It sounds like hypnosis to me. That's the only way you could've been frozen you like that. And you mentioned that he spoke in real soothing voice to you. That's the same thing that hypnotists do to ease people into a trance."

The human shook his head. "Hypnosis doesn't work that quickly. It takes a least a few minutes to put someone's mind at ease, even longer for them to be completely zonked out like I was. Besides, to be hypnotized you have to want to be hypnotized. Any person can resist it just by not paying attention for a few seconds. I've seen it on the Internet."

"So what else could it be then?"

"It might've been some kind of magic."

"You know humans can't use magic," the monster said. "And Aamodt looks pretty human to me."

"Some of us used to have magic," Landen insisted. "It was a long time ago, yes. But there's a chance that power isn't entirely gone."

"So you think Aamodt is some ancient sorcerer human who's stayed alive and young all these years?"

"Well, when you put it like that it does seem a little dumb…" He sighed. "What do we even know about this kid anyway? Until yesterday, I never remember seeing him before in my life."

Croix thought for a moment. "He's pretty quiet in drama class. Doesn't talk with anyone else unless we're acting out a scene or doing an exercise. And even then he keeps his words to a minimum. That isn't to say he's a bad actor, though. Surprisingly enough he was able to land the leading part for _The Lonely Wizard_ , as Kardius the Lone Wizard. Past that though he's a mystery."

"Guess he wasn't lying…" Landen mumbled to himself.

"I'll admit; we were all little surprised a transfer student would get a part like that after just moving here. I guess the Audition Committee saw something in him."

Landen's eyes narrowed. "Or he _made_ them see something in him. Whatever the reason may be, I don't like it." He straightened himself out of his chair. "If I were you Croix, I wouldn't take my eyes off that kid in class. He's trouble."

The monster nodded. "I won't. Do you think you're gonna be okay?"

"I think so. I'm gonna head home now and nap. I'd like for this day to be over right about now." He scooped up his backpack off the floor and swung it over his shoulder. "I'm serious, though. You never want to turn your back on a snake. The last thing I'd want to see is that freak messing with your head too."

Landen exited the kitchen with his things, the front door opening and closing a few moments later. Croix was left alone at the table, an ambient dread slowly billowing in his chest, the thought of returning to school the next day suddenly terrifying him.


	7. Something Wicked This Way Comes

"Crispus?! Crispus!?" A male cat monster called from the center of the auditorium stage. "Where are you, my friend?!"

Croix floated out from stage right, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the bright spotlight shining onto both of them. "I am here, King Narmont!" His voice boomed with impressive bravado for a monster of his size.

The cat turned to him with an exaggerated look of worry. "Crispus, why must you hide in the shadows like a specter? Can you not see that I need your wisdom now of all times?"

Croix bowed his head. "Forgive me your majesty, but I was attending to my duties in the villages of White Hall and Nightshade. The citizens are growing restless knowing that Kardius has escaped. They worry for their safety."

'Narmont' sighed. "Did you attempt to explain to them the truth of the matter?"

"Indeed, I did your majesty. I tried to explain that the old wizard means them no harm. Although it seems unlikely they believed me. Perhaps you should consider making an official decree on the matter, your majesty? The people of Chesira would listen closer to their king instead of a lowly adviser."

"Oh, Crispus," the cat chuckled heartily, "always so modest. Words, no matter who spoke them, would still be falling upon the villagers' deaf ears. But you are more than just an adviser to Chesira; you are its foundation. Your wisdom has been sound throughout my entire reign, and I do hope it will remain when my son soon ascends to the throne."

Croix bowed his head once again. "I am most appreciative, your majesty. But is there a particular reason to your summoning of me at such an hour?"

"Indeed so, my friend. Kardius has not returned from his traveling into the Highwoods. I know not to what his fate may be, but I spoke with him on the dangers of such a place. The old man was undeterred, though, and now I fear for his safety. It has been nearly three days."

"With all due respect, your majesty, could this not be seen as a positive matter? If Kardius truly has disappeared into the Highwoods this may convince your citizens that the wizard is no longer among them. Our problems would be solved."

'Narmont' pondered this. "Perhaps, although we'd still have to ensure the safety of the wizard. He is a good man and is most undeserving of falling prey to the creatures that lurk in that cursed place. I would like a proper search to be made of the Highwoods perimeter. If Kardius is still inside then we need confirmation that he is alive before venturing forward."

"Of course, your majesty."

At that moment, a human brunette came clamoring out from stage left, clutching a roll of prop parchment paper.

"Your majesty!" They announced through a dramatic panting of breaths. "A message has arrived from our scouts to the South!"

The cat's eyes sharpened, turning toward the new arrival. "What do they report?"

"Bright lights have been spotted from the edges of the Highwoods, sire! A thick fog has rolled in from the sea, preventing further observation of the area. Sheriff Notting asks for your permission to lead a search party to investigate the light's origin."

"It appears we've found our wizard," 'Narmont' remarked humorously. "Messenger, relay to the Sheriff that he is not to enter the Woods before I arrive. I don't want him inciting Kardius to violence if he feels threatened."

"Yes, sire!" The messenger bolted from the room as quickly he'd entered.

"Do you need me to accompany you, your majesty?" Croix asked in dramatized earnest. "I am happy to serve."

The cat shook his head. "That is not necessary, Crispus. But thank you for offering. For now, stay alert and await my return. Our months of misfortune may be solved in this very hour."

"And, scene!" A blonde human woman called from the front theater seating.

As if flipping a switch, Croix and the male cat monster broke out of their assumed character posture and back into their normal stances. The rest of the class as well emerged from backstage, totaling the entire theater class at little over twenty kids.

Hopping up from her seat, the woman boosted herself onto the raised stage and approached the rest of the class. A bright smile was etched onto her face with an almost sunny brightness that spoke of both enthusiasm and kindness. The youth was still prominent upon her, and her manner of dress was quite stylish for that of a school teacher.

"Class, that was incredible!" She announced giddily. "We of course still have a few more regular rehearsals until the big day, but the costumes are sent to arrive by next week, giving us plenty of time for at least three full run-throughs of the play. Each and every one of you has given it your all these past weeks. I can't begin to tell you just how proud I am of the progress you've made since we started."

The three o'clock bell suddenly rang overhead. The woman grinned at the timing. "Well, I guess I'll save the congratulations for opening night. Have a good weekend and remember to practice your lines. You can never be too prepared!"

The mix of monster and human children slowly began to filter out of the auditorium, leaving just Croix and the woman alone on the well-lit stage.

"And I should congratulate you personally, Croix," she continued with an unwavering smile. "If it weren't for the help you've given me, out of your own free time, _The Lonely Wizard_ wouldn't open till at least next month. But you've done more than I could ever hope to ask, and I am very thankful for it."

The monster nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Velltri. I was very happy to help where I could."

"Croix, you did more than help. You were practically my assistant! If you were in high school, I'd certainly be giving you a college recommendation. You've got an intense passion for the theater; I've seen it in you."

"R-Really?"

"Oh yes. Just because you're not one of our more animated students in the class doesn't make you any less of an actor. It's not who you are as a person offstage that matters, but who you are onstage." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Now get going and enjoy your weekend. I've kept you longer than I should."

Croix beamed at his teacher and turned to leave, nearly bumping into a human child standing almost directly behind him. The boy mumbled an apology while pushing past him, close to causing Croix's small frame to bowl over. Thankfully, he was able to catch himself and swung around to face whoever was responsible for such a rude display.

They were male, short, and adorned in all black clothing. They gave him a brief, irritated raise of an eyebrow and approached Ms. Velltri. Croix's shadowy face froze in shock.

"Ms. Velltri," Aamodt greeted flatly.

"Yes, Aamodt?" The woman replied with her trademark positivity.

"I have a few concerns about my part in Scene Seven, Act Two."

Velltri's face wrinkled in confusion. "What seems to be the matter?"

"The matter is that I believe Kardius being captured and subdued by the city guard is unfaithful to his character and should be altered. The scene in of itself is inconsequential to the play and wouldn't be missed if it was cut."

The woman's query only deepened. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean, Aamodt."

The boy's face darkened at her lack of understanding, his voice beginning to rise. "What I mean, is that the scene _should_ be cut. A person like Kardius wouldn't allow himself to be beaten by just a gang of constables, and I reject having to portray such a scene. By this point in the play we've already seen the true extent of his power, making his capture completely contradictory to what the audience is to expect from him."

Ms. Velltri cast Croix a pained look, motioning her head towards the door while mouthing an apology. Taking the hint, he promptly scooped up his backpack from the stage's edge and floated toward the side exit. As he moved away, he could still hear trickles of the conversation.

"Aamodt, I'm sorry that you feel that way, but that's how the play was written. We can't just go back and change the script for one small scene. Besides, several of your classmates will have their own roles during that scene."

"Minor characters," the child in black shot back coldly. "If this was a real stage production the director would be listening to the wishes of their leading role, not of how a few talentless hacks might have their parts shortened for story's sake."

Ms. Velltri shrugged. "Again, I'm sorry you feel that way, but that's just how things are going to be. You having the role of Kardius doesn't give you permission to change the play however way you want it to be. You're still student which makes you same as everybody else in the cast, no matter what."

Aamodt looked at her for a long moment. His eyes meet hers sharply as he inhaled softly. "So that's it?" He said with his words suddenly softening, their edges hanging and lingering as they turned to mist. "You're not going to see reason?"

Croix froze in place. He was almost half outside into the empty corridor when the glacially calm voice reached him. It was just as Landen had described: sleepy and intoxicating. Despite the words not being intended for him, they still rattled faintly along the fringes of his mind, leaving traces of sickly fatigue. Whatever he was doing to Ms. Velltri, it was the same thing he'd done to Landen just a day prior.

Instinctively, he dropped to the ground and scooted his way back into the theater, careful to keep his head down and eyes up at the lit stage. Then, the idea dawning on him suddenly, he flipped open his cellphone and scrolled over to the video application, aiming it covertly towards the action. Whatever was happening, he'd need to record it for later.

"I don't matter to you?" Aamodt continued in his serpent silk voice. "Everything I've sacrificed for this production doesn't count in your eyes?"

"I...I…" Ms. Velltri brought a shaking hand to her head as she attempted to reply but found that her voice refused to obey.

Aamodt grinned at her attempt. "You certainly show gratitude towards that Croix kid. Your little 'star pupil'. Yes?"

The blonde woman gritted her teeth and made as if to scream. Once again her vocal cords remained silent.

She cast a quick, frantic look at the boy standing before her, suddenly feeling the energy sapped from her body as soon as their eyes met. Her body lurched forwards while the color drained from her face. Little by little her mind slowly surrendered itself to the boy's power, until finally, any form of resistance had left her will entirely.

Aamodt sighed.

"I've never liked you, Ms. Velltri. You run your class poorly, lack necessary discipline, and always let your personal biases get in the way of even-handed teaching. I've seen the little clique you've formed among your favored students. That's probably why they have such prominent casted roles in the first place. If it wasn't for my natural... _talents_ , I doubt I would've gotten a part at all in this pitiful little production."

He took a step forward, outstretching his hand as he spoke. "I think it's time that you get a new favorite student, Ms. Velltri. Or at least, acknowledge that there are other kids in your class." He paused, stressing his words deeply for further emphasis.

"Now, for the last time, I'd like for Scene Seven, Act Two, to be removed from the play. I don't care how you edit it, but I want that entire section to be omitted on opening night. And while you do this, I don't want you to tell anyone that it's being altered. We can't be too obvious about it now can we?"

"And once you've done this, I want you to forget we've ever had this conversation. You'll see the reasoning in my argument and believe it to be your own. If questioned on this reasoning you will evade the topic as adamantly as possible and do whatever it takes to maintain this necessary alteration, Ms. Velltri."

Then there was silence.

Croix expected the human boy to list more demands to the enthralled Ms. Velltri but was instead met with an odd stillness in the auditorium. He waited for a few more moments in case the boy was merely pondering his next command or relishing the strange feat of persuasion.

Croix raised his head up over the theater seating he'd been using as cover, surveying the room the best he could from such a position. Ms. Velltri was still facing lifelessly out toward the invisible audience. But he could no longer see the back of Aamodt's ebony clothing and ink-black hair.

Instead, he saw the gaping silver reflection of two spectacled eyes, a pale face observing him with quiet intensity. A hand was reaching for something in his pocket.

Croix yelped. He bolted out of the theater without a look behind him, clutching his phone tightly and making sure to find Landen as soon as possible. Not once did he look back.


	8. Point of No Return

Croix held the phone screen up for Landen to see. The human boy's eyes were transfixed on the startling video that'd been recorded just minutes earlier in the school's auditorium. Croix could see the look of concentration his friend held as they walked down the sidewalk, clutching the neck of his bicycle as the recording progressed further.

When the two-minute clip concluded with Croix's hasty exit from the theater Landen looked to the little monster skittishly.

"Do you think Aamodt saw your face?"

He nodded. "I'm sure he did. Somehow he could tell I was hiding by the door. I don't know how he just...saw me there."

"I don't like this," Landen said with a grim shake of his head. "That's two people he's tried to influence in just two days. I bet he's done it to more people since the start of the year too. He clearly doesn't have much restraint in using that power of his."

"Do you still think it's some kind of magic?"

"It can't be, he's human. It's gotta be some sort of hypnosis."

"But didn't you say hypnosis doesn't work that quickly? And I doubt Ms. Velltri wanted to be hypnotized by Aamodt. That takes away any chance of her willingly opening her mind to his suggestions."

Landen shrugged. "I don't know; maybe he's found some new way to make the process quicker. Maybe some monster is helping him. Whatever it might be, he saw your face and already knows who you are. That makes things a whole lot more complicated."

Croix raised his glowing yellow eyes skeptically. "Landen, what do you think he'd do? He's a kid, like us. If he tries to hurt anyone we can just tell a teacher and he'd be suspended."

"No kid talks like how he was talking in that video. And besides, who's to say he doesn't have one of his tools do something to you outside of school? Then we couldn't tell on him, and he wouldn't even be to blame, his 'friends' would."

"Please don't say that Landen," the monster pleaded as a sense of dread began to drop into his chest. "You're scaring me now."

Landen pursed his lips at the statement. "I'm not trying to scare you, Croix. I'm trying to warn you. I think we've just come across something we weren't meant to, and now the both of us are in danger. At the very least we can be prepared for it."

"We?" Croix echoed. "What does this have to do with you?"

"We're friends aren't we? If he messes with you, he messes with me too. No way am I gonna let him hurt you. And remember, I'm someone he tried to influence but failed. I could see it on his face when I broke free of his control. He was shocked, completely taken by surprise. I can guarantee something like that doesn't happen to him often. That gives him reason enough to come after the both of us." He paused. "We're threats to him."

"Why would he care though? What's there to threaten?"

"Like I said, we found something we weren't supposed to. Now that we know and have proof he's doing this to get what he wants we could quickly turn him in, or at least, get people to keep their distance from him. Doing that would end this little power trip of his and ruin any chance of him pulling anyone else under his control. A sick kid like him would do anything to stop that from happening."

"Do you think we can get people to believe us? He could just say we faked the video, and it was all a joke."

Landen sighed. "I'm still trying to figure that one out. I bet most of the people we know will believe us, especially anyone who already thinks he's a creep. Adults on the other hand...I doubt even Ms. Velltri would believe it. For now, we can take this one step at a time. We have the entire weekend to plan out our next move."

The human looked over his shoulder briefly and back to Croix, a sense of urgency channeling into his words. "But how about we get back to your house? This town suddenly feels a lot less safe…"

* * *

The rest of Friday passed without a word from Landen, followed by a majority of Saturday as well. Croix had been hoping his typically eager and headstrong friend would've gotten back to him sooner on what their plan would be for Monday. But it appeared the almost surreal situation with Aamodt was something even Landen would have trouble figuring out, which only made him all the more anxious.

As usual on a Saturday night, Croix had already completed his homework and his lines for drama class well-versed for the dress rehearsal that coming week.

Now he sat quietly at his bedside, reading a young adult novel about rangers and apprentices. His nightstand lamp was the only dominant form of illumination in his darkened room, with only a few solitary slivers of light creeping under his door from the hallway.

The house was quiet. His parents were downstairs watching a film on TV while his older brother was still away at college. Even without a missing occupant his home always held a pervading sense of subdued calm. It typically relaxed him, released stress whenever he had it.

But right now the stretching silence only made him fearful, not in a direct sort of way, but in the back of his mind. He subconsciously knew he'd have to return to school on Monday, return to his drama class, see Aamodt and Ms. Velltri acting their usual selves as if nothing had happened on Friday, like things were still how they were supposed to be.

He tried his best not to think about it and yet knew that such a thing was impossible. What he'd seen had changed everything, and nothing would go back to normal until he and Landen found a way to stop Aamodt.

His cellphone suddenly began to ring. In a flash, he set his book down and reached to his nightstand for the device. He didn't even check the caller's name before hitting the talk button.

"Hello?" He greeted quickly.

" _Croix,_ " Landen's voice said on the other end. " _Get on your computer. I need you to do something for me._ "

He hopped off his bed with the phone still held to his ear. Reaching under the springboard, he pulled out the black laptop that had formerly belonged to his brother and flipped it open hastily.

" _Are you on your computer?_ " The human asked after a brief moment.

"I am."

" _Okay. I first want you to send me the video you were able to get of Aamodt_."

Croix tapped in a few commands on his phone and sent the file to Landen's computer. Normally he would've just sent it through his phone's messaging application, but since Landen didn't have a phone in the first place, he settled with email.

" _Alright, I got the video._ "

"What should I do now?" Croix said as his grip tightened excitedly against the phone.

" _I want you to send this video to everybody you know who will believe you, preferably people who go to our school. Don't over send it to or anything, try to keep it on a level where you can answer questions if anyone asks you._ "

The monster looked pointedly at the phone receiver as if his friend was right there next to him. "Landen, what're you trying to do?"

" _We're trying to spread the word! It's the only way we have of telling people about what that creep's up to. If we get enough people believing us, then they'll tell other people too. Before you know it we'll have the entire school, or, at least, a part of it, wary of whatever he's trying to do._ "

"Landen...that kind of sounds like cyber bullying."

There was a pause on the other line. " _I-It's not cyber bullying, it's the truth. Dude, we can't just let him get away with this. It's the only way we have of showing everyone what he's been doing. Do you want him to keep messing with people's heads?_ "

Croix sighed. "It's not that I don't want to stop him, I just think we might get in trouble for this if any of the teachers find out. Like you said on Friday, they're more than likely not going to believe what happened. Then what would happen to us?"

Despite them being over the phone, he could tell that Landen was smiling warmly as he responded. " _You're worrying too much. Trust me, I got this entire thing planned out for us._ " A distant shouting could then be heard on Landen's end followed by a stomping of feet. " _Dang it, I have to go. Message me if you need anything. I'll be in touch._ "

The line went dead. Croix put the phone down and stared off at the other side of his room.

He doubted Landen had planned out anything past what he mentioned, which didn't surprise him in the least. His friend had a tendency of one tract thinking during stressful times and would rarely consider every possible variable until it was too late. That proactive mindset had helped him as much as it had hindered him. The only difference now was that it was going to affect Croix as well.

True, they could get in trouble from the school administration. Bullying was something nearly every school was trying to land on with two feet. Zero tolerance policies were the new norm which meant their posting of videos without Aamodt's express permission could easily be interpreted as a personal attack if the creep ever figured it out. Still, maybe the risk was necessary.

There was no telling what the mysterious child in black could do with the power he possessed. And since he and Landen appeared to be the only other souls aware of what he was doing, that placed a particular duty on their shoulders, whether they liked it or not. If they weren't going to be the ones to put a stop to what Aamodt was doing, who would?

Sighing once again, Croix typed in the web address to _SpaceBook_ and entered his password. His fairly bare profile page popped up on screen. Looking at it for a long moment, he reached for the trackpad but pulled his cloaked grip back just before it grazed the plastic.

This really was the point of no return for him. Once he started sending out the video, he'd be taking a step into something beyond his understanding. He _could_ just walk away, pretend he'd never seen anything and tell himself that he must've imagined the whole thing. It'd be so easy. All he'd have to do was close his laptop and forget about it. There was no telling what Aamodt was capable of, what lengths he'd go to protect what he wanted. Was he really willing to take that kind of chance when he didn't have to?

"Yes," Croix mumbled.

He reached over to the trackpad and brought up a message window for Lilja. Without preamble or explanation, he sent the attached video to her. Then to Colwyn, and then Wist, and everybody else who came to mind.

It only took a few minutes. Finished, he closed his laptop and slid it back under his bed. Now all he'd have to do was wait until Monday to see what would happen. He didn't plan on replying to people over the Internet to explain himself. If they had questions, he'd gladly answer them in person. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the rest of his weekend while he could.

 _I hope you have this thought out, Landen_ he thought to himself. _Because I know I don't._


	9. Child In Black

Monday came like any other day. Croix woke up, got ready for school, and was dropped off by his mom.

The tension he'd felt since he'd last spoken to Landen was still palpable. An anxiousness still pulsed in the pit of his chest. He had no idea what to expect after what had happened with Aamodt and Ms. Velltri on Friday, nor he and Landen's subsequent retaliation on Saturday. He was still blind to the situation he'd willingly gotten himself into but knew that more details would reveal themselves as the dreaded day progressed.

He quietly floated into his literature arts class and began to set his things down near the back. The teacher had yet to arrive, which left the room of monsters and humans freely chatting between their rows. He was just about to take his seat when his friends Lilja and Colwyn approached him, both with their backpacks still slung over their shoulders.

"Hey Croix," Lilja greeted, her droopy red ears jostling slightly as she spoke. "How was your weekend?"

He shrugged. "It was okay."

"Have you seen Landen today?" Colwyn said behind his glasses and shaggy blonde hair.

"N-No, why?"

"We wanted to ask him about that video you two sent around to everybody," Lilja explained. "I mean, it was weird, and he was kind of vague about the whole thing. Was that really Aamodt hypnotizing Ms. Velltri? Because, well, that's what he said, but you know how he can get when excited."

"We thought we should ask you since he might be making up the whole thing," Colwyn added bluntly. "Is he?"

Croix nervously swallowed. "I was the one who recorded the video, not Landen. The whole thing happened right in front of me in the theater. It _was_ Aamodt."

The two other kids widened their eyes in equal bewilderment, passing looks to one another as if to make sure they heard him correctly. Was Landen's credibility really that weak with them or was the situation itself just that unbelievable? He assumed it to be a mix of both. Either way, his confirmation would make it all the more difficult for anyone in their clique to deny it.

Colwyn's eyes narrowed skeptically. "You're serious? Landen didn't put you up to this or anything? This isn't some kind of joke?"

"No, why should it be?"

"There's just been some buzz is all," Lilja said. "A lot of people are talking about it, and not everyone knows if it's fake or not. I'll admit, I kind of doubted it myself. I mean, hypnosis? On a teacher? No way. But if you actually did see it yourself...how can we argue against that?"

Croix's face lit up suddenly. "Wait, so you guys actually did send the video around like I asked?"

Lilja nodded. "'Course we did, you asked us to."

He internally smiled at this. So Landen had been right after all. The knowledge of Aamodt was spreading. It would, of course, take days, maybe weeks for more people to buy into the truth but at least they had a start. Relief rushed through Croix as a sense of security finally returned to him after what felt like centuries of its absence.

And then their teacher strutted into the room, dissipating the provisional control of the class as every student made a mad dash for their desks.

"C'mon guys, I hope I'm not that scary," their teacher, a black haired human male remarked humorously as he set his things down. In truth, his raw-boned face and pallid complexion nearly gave him the appearance of a skeleton wrapped in human , that was kind of what humans were in the first place.

"Alright, first order of business today: your research papers. I need your individual choices for which authors you want to learn more about by the end of this week. Just send me your top three choices through your Whiteboard account and I'll try to make it so each of you can get your first or second choice."

"Awwwww, Mr. Tino!" A monster whined from the back of class. "Can't you just give us what author we need to read about?"

Mr. Tino nodded his head. "Yes, Granat, I could do that if all of you were still in elementary school. Thankfully, you aren't. Which means instead of being handed your assignment by yours truly, you all have the opportunity to actually select who you're learning about. And trust me, you're not going to get this chance often in school."

He cleared his throat and continued. "Second order of business: bibliographies. A lot of you guys aren't turning these in...at all. I understand that citing your sources isn't the most entertaining thing in the world, but you guys have got to start doing it more often. I don't like doing it either, but it's a fact of life in academics. And if you don't like it you can take it up with the complaint department." He gestured grandly to the room's trash bin, drawing a slew of giggles from the class.

"Third order of business: Croix. Croix, are you here?"

"Yes?" the small monster said as loud as he could, his voice barely reaching the front of the class.

"You got a note from the front office." He gestured towards the door with his thumb. "Dr. Zeniow wants to speak with you. It's something important."

He blinked only once. "... _Oh_."

* * *

"Dr. Zeniow's waiting for you," the front secretary greeted cordially as Croix floated through the doorway. He nodded his head and moved down the narrow administration wing corridor, stopping at a plain wooden door that had been left ajar. Embroiled on the gate in thin black paint was the title: Dr. Sertis Zeniow, Principal.

He brushed the door open with his wind magic and hovered inside, stopping dead in his tracks as his mind registered the scene.

Landen was sitting in a chair posted in front of the Principal's modestly sized desk, holding a melancholy hand to his forehead. Dr. Zeniow was standing behind the desk, rising slightly as he entered. And as well standing, just beside the principal like a specter, was Aamodt, calmly regarding Croix behind his desolate spectacles.

"Mr. Thurii," the principal announced flatly, motioning to a second chair at Landen's side. "Please close the door behind you and take a seat."

Croix did as he was told. Dr. Zeniow sat down as well while Aamodt continued to stand.

The Principal was a beefy, well-built male monster, with bushy brown fur and a wolfen face that contrasted well with the neatly pressed business suit he wore. He held a grave disposition to both seated boys, steepling his hands tightly while letting out an introductory sigh to the conversation.

"So I've been told you two have been cyber bullying Aamodt Alstrom," he said coldly. "Deliberately going out of your way, outside of school, to make things tougher for another student. Do I need to remind you boys that this is a _direct_ violation of the academic contract you signed at the start of the year?"

"Dr. Zeniow-" Landen began indignantly.

The monster held up a palm to stop him. "Please, let me finish Mr. Fonten. To remind you two, your academic contract specifically stated that you would respect the privacy and personal integrity of any and all students here at Crystal Bay Junior High. You promised to promote a kind atmosphere and safe learning environment that would positively encourage your fellow students. Now, what I want to know is why you two felt the need to violate such requirements."

"Dr. Zeniow," Landen said once again, "we never intended to bully anyone. This wasn't done with bad intentions."

"Oh, then what gave you the need to post a video of Aamodt without his permission?"

"W-We-"

"If this weren't done with bad intentions you could've easily asked him if it was alright to videotape him doing some magic trick or whatever the video was. But instead, you didn't. Care to explain why?"

Landen looked to Croix, who in turn looked to him. They silently searched the other for answers, some cue or hint on how to explain the unexplainable to someone who wouldn't believe them in the first place. Croix could feel himself began to perspire as Landen chewed the edge of his lip nervously. A tense silence prevailed in the room.

The wolf monster sighed. "I'll be frank with you boys, I take bullying, whether it's inside or outside the classroom, as a very serious offense against this school. Everybody is trying their very best to make Crystal Bay Junior High the proper educational institution it should be. And yet, there's always a few bad apples in a bunch. It's actions like this that reflect very poorly on our student body, and it pains me to think that two bright kids like yourselves have resorted to something like this."

"I understand, school can be tough. But that doesn't give you the right to take your frustrations out on other people. That's not the mature way to handle yourselves. What you two will come to realize the older you get is that sometimes you have to look inward when it comes to particular problems. Sometimes what you're feeling can't always be…"

Dr. Zeniow's froze suddenly, the last trickles of his sentence trailing off without conclusion. His eyes glazed over, his face went pale, his muscles seemed to lock up as if on command. However, he didn't collapse into unconsciousness or lurch forward in unexpected exhaustion. Instead, he continued to sit upright as if still speaking to them, like a wax statue had taken his place.

"I think we've heard enough," Aamodt remarked slyly with his hand outstretched toward the principal, the other clutching something in his jacket pocket. He strolled around the desk and made as if to approach the two from where they sat, looking on in horror at the nightmare they'd inadvertently walked into.

Seeing the approach, Landen sprung up from his seat with Croix doing the same. The child in black stopped.

"You!" Landen growled with an accusatory finger pointed towards Aamodt.

The other human raised his hands in mock defense. "Easy there, kid. No need to get so hostile. We're friends after all."

"What did you do to Dr. Zeniow!?"

"Him? Old man's just taking a nap. When he comes to he can finish his little lecture or maybe I'll cut it out from his mind to save you boys a little time." He propped himself up casually against the principal's desk, half sitting, half leaning on it. "But for now, I'd like for us to talk."

"We don't have anything to say to you!" Landen snapped back.

Aamodt smirked. "That's good, because I have a lot to say to you." He reached into one of his pockets and brandished a package of cigarettes and a lighter. Promptly, he lit one, cradling it between his bent fingers. "I hope you don't mind, it's a little habit I picked up at Newman Prep. All the students did too. Was our only way of kicking back between the day."

He took a drag from the torch and continued. "I know what you two know. That video you posted around is evidence enough. I thought I'd covered my tracks sufficiently in the past, but it looks like I've gotten a little bit sloppy. Oh well." He took another drag. "But this, of course, leaves us with a bit of problem, a problem I'd like to have sorted out before it turns into something more."

"You two need to stop this little escapade of yours. That video you sent around," he eyed Croix grimly, "the video that _you_ filmed isn't exactly going to get more people on my side. It's already going to be tricky enough to convince people it was all joke or a social experiment or something dumb like that. And even then, it'll take weeks to rebuild my reputation to its pristine position like before."

"If you wanted a good reputation maybe you shouldn't have hypnotized Ms. Velltri in the first place," Croix shot back with quieted intensity.

Aamodt grinned. "'Hypnotized'? Cute assumption but wrong. Either way, I've got big plans for this place, and I can't have two little insects like yourselves interfering. You know too much already."

Landen's eyes sharpened. "Are you gonna try and brainwash us then, like you've done to gosh-who-knows-how-many-other-people? It won't work."

"To you, perhaps not. But your monster friend here…" He pondered the choice humorously. "There's never any sense in not trying, right?"

The human stepped in front of his friend, hands balling into fists. "I won't let you," he growled.

Aamodt chuckled. "You'll try. I'll give you that. But you'd only force me to end your pitiful life and make my job all the much harder."

"Don't talk so tough, pal. Croix has wind magic, and I'm pretty good in a fight. No way you could take both of us on."

The child in black raised his eyebrows sardonically. "Really?"

In an instant, the human boy thrust out the palm that clutched his cigarette, flicking the ash stick into the air while pointing all five of his fingers down at the room's carpet floor. Then, with his other hand reaching into the folds of his jacket once again, a dark blue torrent of electricity erupted from his fingertips. The torrent lunged through the air, impacting against the room's plaster wall and leaving a blackened ash, charring the cheap plaster while giving off a slight burning smell to the room.

Croix and Landen's faces' paled, eyes turning wide at what they'd just seen. They backed up instinctively, propping up against the back wall and each other in fear of what may come next.

Aamodt knowingly smiled at their equal shock and horror. "Now that I have your full attention." He took out another cigarette from his pocket and gave out a deep drag before he continued. "What I need you two to do for me is very straightforward. You've come across something that doesn't concern either of you, so I need you two to act accordingly to this."

"Just walk away, that's all I'm asking. You're both way in over your heads and can't possibly comprehend the situation you've fallen into. I mean, you're just two junior high schoolers for crying out loud! You're not the police, you're not secret agents, you're not even adults. You're two kids who are only going to end up hurt or dead if you continue to tamper with what must be done to this world."

He flashed them a twisted smile. "And if you don't take me up on my offer, I can make your lives a living hell. You think I'm not prepared for something like this to happen? You think I wouldn't be ready for someone to stick their nose where it didn't belong? Granted, I was expecting a teacher, but that's beside the point."

"You won't stop me, nobody can, because no matter how many people you tell, no matter how many people you can get to believe you, it'll already be too late for you. So please, just end this now, makes things easier...for the both of us."

A tense silence came over the room. The two boys were still pressed against the wall while Aamodt waited passively for a response. Outside the room, the second-period bell rang. The hallways filled with students, the classrooms filled with teachers. The regular happenings of the school ticked on uninterrupted, oblivious.

"W-What are you?" Croix asked.

Aamodt frowned as if insulted by the question. "You'll figure it out soon enough. Now, make your choice. I bet you two have classes to get to."

But the boys didn't answer, only letting the ambiance of the school rumble peacefully in the distance.

"Alright, play it like that." The child sighed. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you'll hold to our little agreement. But if I suspect your meddling in my affairs again, I won't hesitate to put a stop to it. Do you understand?"

No response.

"Good."

He tossed his still smoldering cigarette to the ground and stamped it out with the tip of his shoe. Sliding off the desk, he strolled out of the office before poking his head back in one last time.

"Oh, and I almost forget," he snapped his fingers and shut the door behind him.

"...what drives you to action," Dr. Zeniow continued as if he'd never been stopped. "When you go onto high school, and eventually college, your teachers there will…" He paused, looking confused as to what he'd awakened to. "Mr. Thurii, Mr. Fonten, why are you boys out of your seats?"


	10. No Longer In the Dark

"He has magic," Landen stated plainly as he and Croix sped home on his bike.

Croix shook his head. "That can't be possible. He's human; you guys aren't supposed to have magic."

"Croix, look at what we've seen Aamodt do so far. He's brainwashed people, frozen people in place, and shot electricity out of his dang hands! How else would you explain this?"

"No human has used magic since the construction of the Underground Barrier all those years ago. Why would it be now that one kid, in Crystal Bay of all places, suddenly be granted that power? It doesn't make any sense."

Landen sighed. "Dude, since the day that creep came up to me nothing's made any sense. And now we don't have anything to go off of."

"You mean you don't have a Plan B?"

"No, not really. I didn't expect him to find some way to get around this. I mean, it seems so obvious now, but before today, I was sure that we'd cornered him with that video. Guess I was wrong…and now we're both paying for it."

Croix tilted his head around for his friend to see him better. "Don't be so hard on yourself. We still have loads of chances to expose him and find out what he's up to."

"I don't know...he kind of had a point. We are just two kids. How can we hope to stop someone who has control over the principal _and_ who knows how many other adults? Someone who doesn't care about whoever steps on to get his way?"

Croix's glowing yellow eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Did the Landen Fonten I've known since kindergarten just say what I think he just said?"

"Dude, I'm serious. This isn't a game anymore. You heard what he said, that we could end up hurt or dead if we keep on trying to interfere. And what was that other thing? 'Tampering with what must be done to this world.' What's that even supposed to mean? It sounds creepy, creepier than what a kid our age should be saying."

The monster shook his head. "I'm just as lost as you are right now. But what he said only gives us more reason to fight. The entire world could be at stake right now, and we're the only people with the knowledge to do something about it."

Landen gave a small smile. "You're starting to sound like me now."

"I could say the same about you."

Landen eventually let Croix off at his house. As the monster floated off the handlebars, he turned back around swiftly. "Don't get discouraged, Landen. We all make mistakes sometimes. That doesn't mean we should completely give up hope. And he's just a kid like us; he's no better than you and me."

The human shrugged. "I don't know...I just don't know anymore. He'll be watching us like a hawk now, making sure we don't try anything else. That doesn't leave us with many options."

"That's exactly what he wants us to think," Croix replied solidly. "For all the bragging and intimidation he tried to put on that's all to hide how he actually feels. He's afraid of us no matter how much he says to the contrary, and it's because we're the only conceivable threat to whatever he's trying to do. We can't, shouldn't, and won't give up hope just because things look bad now. It'll work out. I know it will."

Landen grinned weakly at his friend's determination. "You need to bring out your theatrical side more when I'm around. But thanks for the talk, it makes me feel a little better. I'll see you tomorrow." He gave a swift kick to the bike engine's starter and sped off down the street, turning the corner sharply as he always did.

Croix watched as his friend disappeared from view. Leaving him standing absently on the sidewalk outside.

It was only then that Croix realized Landen hadn't mentioned any future planning of what to do next. Maybe he'd just forgotten to go over that part or maybe it meant something else.

Hope, or, at least, persistence, was what kept the both of them marching through all the trials and tribulations that their very young lives had thrown at them thus far. Croix knew how tough Landen had it at home and admired the positive attitude he was able to keep. The very thought of him suddenly losing faith frightened him and made him feel as if he was as well giving up. They were friends after all and wouldn't let each other down no matter what.

"Then looks like it's up to me," he mumbled, feeling a surge of determination as the words left him.

The sun was only now beginning to dip downwards in the sky; the afternoon glow still fresh across the neighborhood. A gentle breeze pushed past Croix as he began to walk towards his house, the air almost propelling him forwards.

* * *

Weeks passed without activity. True to what Croix had been fearing, Landen remained distant to the notion of stopping Aamodt, mentioning the slew of strange events only in passing. Croix as well could feel his own faith diminishing in the fight, the lack of answers, understanding, or even safety from the child in black's clutches disheartening him no matter how hard he tried.

As if to further complicate things, _The Lonely Wizard_ was opening that Friday night, filling the week with dress rehearsals and last minute preparations before the theatrical production was ready. He was doing his best to stay hopeful through the entire ordeal but could feel a growing weariness as the days went on.

Now he sat in theater class, hovering idly onstage with everyone else.

"We're _this_ close, class!" Ms. Velltri announced with a pantomimed pinch of the air. "We've been giving it everything we got, and now we're almost there. Of course, there's still some things that stage crew needs to get in order, but that shouldn't be a problem by the time Friday rolls around. Every one of you is doing an excellent job! Just keep up the good work and we'll all have a super time, together!"

The three o'clock bell rang and the class gradually filtered off the stage. Croix moved with the rest of the students, slinging his bookbag onto his back and floating towards the exit.

He normally would've stayed after class to talk with Ms. Velltri about whatever still needed to be completed for the play. But after seeing her manipulation at the hand's of Aamodt, he no longer felt as comfortable around her. There was no telling how far the child's power went when influencing the mind of another and Croix didn't intend to find out.

As he moved towards the exit with everyone else, he crossed eyes with Aamodt, who was leaning against the stage with a bored expression. The human child gave no indication he was leaving and scowled as Croix glanced at him.

He looked away and kept on floating, granted, at a now slower pace, letting the steps of the other students overtake his own. When he was just out in the corridor, he turned back around to get another look at the almost empty theater. To his surprise, Ms. Velltri was approaching him, her signature smile shining.

"Croix!" She greeted hurriedly. "It's good to see you again. Make sure to practice your lines tonight. We only have one more dress rehearsal to go!"

He opened his mouth to reply politely when the blonde woman, hair grayer than he remembered, reached forward and closed both double doors leading inside.

He stood there a moment, surprised at the uncharastically direct action on his teacher's part. Knowing the relationship the two had, she would've spent at least another minute asking him questions and wishing him the best of luck in the coming days. Never would she have left it like that, and if she had for some inconceivable reason, a slew of apologies would've followed in close succession.

Which meant...something. And Croix didn't like what that something might be.

He waited a few more moments until he was sure she was gone. In the clear, he pushed up against the doors, feeling both refuse to budge against his minuscule force. He gave another shove against the doors, this time with all the physical might he could muster. But they didn't move which left him with only one more option.

Looking around to make sure nobody was watching him, he began to channel a wave of wind magic into his proximity, building a compressed swirl of air until he had nearly a solid sphere of pressure. Taking a deep breath, he projected the aura dead center at both doors, marveling as the magic was deflected by the wood and dissipated in an instant.

"They build these things to last," he mumbled.

He gave the door another desperate push and sighed. There was no way he'd be getting the door open by himself. If he'd had Landen with him the other boy certainly would've found some intricate way to open the door or might've just kicked it in. Either way, the door would've been opened, and they'd be stopping Aamodt and whatever scheme he had going on behind it.

But Landen wasn't there, and it was too late to go and find him. By the time Croix reached the bike racks to fetch him, Aamodt and Ms. Velltri could already be long gone. They'd have lost a prime opportunity to figure out just what the heck was going on, and the truth would once again allude them. For the sake of them both, he needed to act now.

Croix took off floating down the corridor without a second thought. Rounding the first corner, the ends of his cloak whipped in the wind as his body careened down the empty school hallways.

He took the first staircase up to the school's third floor, rounded another corner, continued straight on, went down an older flight of stairs to the second floor, rounded a third corner and skidded to a halt in front of an ancient looking metal door labeled: 'Stage Maintenance'.

The overhead maintenance catwalks led directly into the theater. Access was technically restricted to the janitorial staff and students in stage crew, but Ms. Velltri had given Croix's unofficial status as her unofficial assistant a few extra privileges in helping her out.

Not to his surprise, the door opened with ease, and he promptly shut it behind himself, careful not to attract the attention of a wandering teacher or custodian.

He found himself in a dusty, dark, and nearly impassible labyrinth of cluttered stage equipment. The student managers in charge apparently hadn't placed organization as an essential quality in their work and had left a scene of controlled chaos strewed about from the previous day's dress rehearsal. Under normal circumstances, Croix would've been irked by an apparent lack of professionalism on the stage crew's part. But, as he stood in the near total darkness, he couldn't help but consider such a mess being perfect cover among the shadows.

He hovered forwards at a tiptoe pace, his glowing yellow eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness. A faint voice began to echo from the center area backstage.

Creeping along the catwalks, Croix gradually made his way to a well enough vantage point, crouching behind some crates as he overlooked the gathering below him.

Several students dressed in black, both monster and human, stood clustered together at the chamber's center. Aamodt stood among them addressing their entirety while Ms. Velltri stood beside him, silent and listening like the rest.

"-which means we'll all have to be here on time," the strikingly familiar voice of Aamodt echoed harshly. "For the majority of the play, everyone just stick to your already assigned duties. Lindie, I want you to keep your eyes on how the spotlights are being functioned. Remember to have them focused in properly when I'm going through my parts as well as at the end. Dodwell, make sure that nobody ends the transceiver broadcast early. Lock the door if you have to before the curtain rises just to be sure."

Aamodt gestured to the stage's drawn curtain. "When the signal is given I want all of you to get into position. Don't make it obvious but move as hastily as you can without attracting attention. Once the final scene ends, Norum will lower the projector screen while Pinchot cuts the curtain's ropes. Once we have that out of the way, Meske will ready the projector while Velltri speaks to the crowd."

The spectacled boy looked up at Ms. Velltri, his face regarding like any other of the enthralled. "Velltri, keep your introduction short and to the point. Once you're done, hand me the mic and I'll take it from there. Sahlin, make sure to lock the inner doors five minutes before the end. We need as many people present for what's...what's…" The boy's voice trailed as he looked up at the catwalks suddenly.

"I sense you up there, Croix," he called calmly. "You're not as sly as you think you are. Come out and let's talk face to face, I bet you have questions."

But there was no reply. Croix was already throwing the maintenance door open with his magic and rushing to find Landen, his heart thudding like a piston.

"Stop him," Aamodt commanded quietly.

The group dispersed in an instant, sprinting off into the halls like a swarm of duplicating drones.

"You," he said as he pointed to Ms. Velltri, "come with me."

 **Author's Note:**

 **Hey guys, Sion here. So, I've never been particularly good with internet stuff before, but I felt like I really should just tell you all how thankful I am for your continued support of this story. I love writing every chapter of it and all of you still sticking with me is something I'm wholeheartedly appreciative of. It's because if you awesome people that I've been able to press on with this project and make it what it is currently. Thank you so much for everything you've done, you guys are truly amazing and kind people. I love you all! :)**


	11. Burnt Rubber

Croix burst out the main school door and shot straight towards the bike racks. He could see Landen standing passively by his bike, apparently waiting for him to arrive.

"Landen!" He yelled, nearly knocking his unsuspecting friend over with his small frame. "We need to get out of here! Now!"

"Woah, woah, woah," the human said with his hands raised for calm. "What's going on, dude? Is something wrong?"

"It's Aamodt!" He blurted. "He's after me and-AHHH! Look out!" He pointed frantically at the front doors, just as a group of four other students dressed in black came charging out.

He could see the equal look of panic on Landen's face as he realized what was going on. "Oh, crap!" He hollered, jumping on his bike in a flash. "Get on!"

Croix did as he was told, gripping nervously against the handlebars while his friend evened the bike out of the racks and brought his foot down on the engine's starter. To their horror, the chain sputtered.

"Oh my God!" He moaned. "Why now?!"

"Keep trying!" Croix urged. "They're getting closer!"

Landen gave the starter another stiff kick but got the same result.

"It's not working!"

"Keep trying!"

"I am!"

"They're almost…" Croix voice trailed, "...here…"

And at that moment they were surrounded, a student in black to each side of them, closing in wordlessly with eyes full of forced cruelty. They moved like specters toward them with hunched bodies that seemed to graze and slither over the numerous racks dividing them. Their gaze was unwavering from where the two boys sat on the stalled bike, the enthralled spreading themselves like clawed predators.

There was no way the boys could take all of them at once and there was no telling what Aamodt had instructed to do with them once they were caught. Considering what the twisted child in black had alluded to weeks earlier, they'd be lucky if he let them live.

Then Landen brought a sharp, splintering heel against the starter, the engine rumbling to life like the fine oiled machine it wasn't.

"That got it!" He hollered excitedly as the engine roared. "Now let's get the heck outta here!"

Revving the engine, they shot forwards, nearly running over one of the enthralled students who stumbled over by result. They zipped down the street at a pace faster than that of their first day on the motorized wonder, not looking back for even an instant.

They kept on speeding away from school until they were sure they'd reached a safe distance, their hearts still beating in stunned unison.

"It was Aamodt!" Croix said once again, Landen slowing the bike slightly so they could hear each other. "He's going to do something on the opening night of the play."

"What exactly?"

"He's going speak to the entire crowd at the end of the show while the big projector screen instead of the red curtain is lowered. They also mentioned something about a video projector and a transceiver but I couldn't tell what that meant."

Landen gasped. "He's gonna enthrall the entire audience!"

"What?! How?"

"Aamodt using his voice alone wouldn't be enough to control everyone in the crowd. He needs people's attention to be centered when he does...whatever he does. The projector and the screen are probably so he could have an image of his face to as well hold the people's minds."

"What about the transceiver then?"

"Well, don't they broadcast big school events on the public access channel? He's trying to get anybody watching it on TV also under his control and who knows how many people that might be."

"Oh my gosh…" Croix remarked in horror. "So many adults, so many people, all under his control. They'll be at least five hundred in the audience, even more watching it on TV."

Landen bit his lip anxiously. "Dang it, dang it, dang it! Why didn't we see this coming? If we'd only known about this sooner, we could've stopped him by now."

"Landen, just be thankful we are aware of this at all. We're lucky as it is."

His friend sighed. "You're right. We just need to keep a cool head about this and plan out our next attack."

"What's the first step?"

"Well, obviously we need to get to a safe place and lie low for awhile. There's no telling how many other people he has out looking for us."

"Umm...Landen?"

"Yes?"

Croix pointed shakily to the road beside them. "I think they're ahead of us on that."

Landen briefly turned his head around to see what he was referring to and nearly shattered entirely. Just a hundred few yards away from them on the street, speeding up to intercept them, was a plain looking white sedan. As if realizing it'd been spotted, the car zoomed forwards suddenly.

"No…" Croix murmured, "that's Ms. Velltri's car."

Landen's face hardened. "Then I guess we know who she's with."

He revved the bike's engine to try and compensate a distance between the approaching car. Noticing this, the car as well increased pace, getting closer and closer to being parallel with them. They looped around a bend on the path with their pursuers still close behind them.

"Can you make it go faster?!" Croix had to shout once again over the wind.

"I can't! If we go past 40 mph, the engine will overheat and we'll be sitting ducks!"

"So what're we going to do?!"

"Nothing! We just stay on the sidewalk until we find some side street to lose them on! Right now they'd have to go over the curb to get us!"

True to what Landen had said, the sedan had reached almost a horizontal equilibrium to them, keeping an identical pace but helpless to stop them. He could make out the outline of Aamodt's head through the passenger-side window and felt a righteous smile cross his lips.

"Havin' some trouble, little man?!" He called with a cupped hand. "Maybe you should get out and run! C'mon, put that fake track career of yours to use!"

The car remained unyielding at its pace but did nothing.

"What's the matter?! Things not easy enough for ya'?! We're right here! Why don't you try something?!"

"Landen, maybe we shouldn't try to make him mad."

The human raised an eyebrow. "Why? It's not like he doesn't have it coming. And besides, he can't do anything to us from where he is."

As if on cue, the car suddenly served up against the concrete curb, its front wheels bouncing over the raised divider while its other two closely followed. The boys screamed as the sedan slipped and slid against the grass of lawns, eventually steadying itself and rumbling towards them down the sidewalk."

"They're going to hit us!" Croix hollered. "What do we do?!"

Landen pressed savagely against handlebars. "We make a detour!"

He careened the bike across an open driveway and onto the thankfully vacant street. The pursuing sedan followed likewise but was far less agile in the maneuver, taking more than a few dings in its front hood and bumper as bounced back onto the pavement.

It was once again a game of speed. The car was closing in behind them while Landen gave the motorized bicycle everything he had. They could feel the heat of the car getting closer, the growl of its engine, the scraping of broken metal against the road.

Croix could see Landen turn the handlebars gruffly, repositioning the bike into a slight curve back towards the sidewalk...and a lamppost beside it.

They skidded, skidded, skidded. Tires squealed as the car behind them followed suit, ready to go with them to the curb and back onto the sidewalk. Croix braced himself for smack of the bike's front wheel against the concrete slab and the vaulting air they'd be granted.

Except, the smack never came, Landen instead twisting the bike away at the last second, his back tire just grazing against the divider. The sedan was unprepared for this and attempted to turn along with them, instead crashing over the curb and straight into the lamppost, nearly ripping it from its steel base.

The two boys didn't stop, not even for a second. Not a glance was given to them, not a word of regret or remorse. They just kept riding. Putting as much distance as possible from the horror that was no doubt still alive.


	12. Call to Arms

"-and then the car smashed into the lamppost, and we got away just in time," Landen retold, sitting cross-legged beside Croix. "We made it straight back home as quickly as we could after that with a few detours along the way. Mainly through the golf course."

His older brother, Orne, took a loud slurp from his soda and nodded. "Sounds exciting."

Croix and Landen had gone directly back to Landen's house after their near fatal encounter with the enthralled Ms. Velltri. They'd stowed the motorized bike in the garage and had made their way safely down into the Fonten's mess of a basement. They'd been hiding out there ever since, just now retelling the story to Orne upon his return from school that evening.

"The bike performed very well," Croix complimented the older human. "If it weren't for that we'd be done for."

Orne gave another nod and another slurp from his drink. "I'm glad to hear it came in handy after all." He smirked at Landen. "And you thought it was a waste of time."

He rolled his eyes. "I was mad at you when I said that, alright? I didn't mean it...entirely. But yes, I'm willing to admit it saved our bacon."

"That's all I wanted to hear," he said as he stood up and took another slurp. "But it looks like you two are in quite the pickle. A messed up kid with magic is trying to take over the minds of hundreds of adults at once and now has the intention to kill you."

"So you believe us?" Landen asked hopefully. "Even the part about him using magic?"

The older human shrugged. "Why wouldn't I believe you? What would you possibly gain in telling me a lie this elaborate? As for the magic part, I can't really see any other explanation. I mean, if this kid actually _can_ shoot lightning out of his hands and control other people with his voice, I think that points to something beyond physical properties."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Croix insisted. "He's human, not a monster. He shouldn't have power over the arcane."

"And yet he does."

"But how?"

"Does it matter at this point?"

"It should," Landen chimed in. "If we somehow found the source of his magic that would give us a chance to stop Aamodt once and for all."

Orne shook his head. "You two don't have the liberty for that, not now anyway. Right now your top priority should be stopping whatever this kid has planned for tomorrow. From there, you'll have more of a chance. But this isn't a time for answers; it's a time for action."

"We've already taken action," his brother stated indignantly. "And it almost got us killed. Before then it didn't get us anywhere but in the principal's office. There has to be another way we can go at this."

"Okay then, what is it? What's the third 'secret path' that'll save the day for Crystal Bay?"

Landen's face reddened. "W-Well, I hadn't exactly thought of anything yet but-"

"Because there isn't a third option," Orne cut in. "You guys can either sit on your hands, waiting for what happens next, or you can do something to stop this freak. Time isn't on your side right now; it's on his. So you better make your choice soon."

Landen eyed his brother flatly. "I don't think you understand what we're dealing with. He'll kill us if we keep on doing this. Not beat us up, not steal our stuff, _kill us_. This kid, this...thing, is something darker than anything this town has ever seen. So if we charge out gung-ho again, not considering everything that could happen, it'll do us no good."

"And if we die," Croix added, "the truth dies with us."

Orne chuckled. "You guys sound real serious about this. Then again, this is a serious matter to begin with. But why did you tell me of all people? Why not your friends?"

"They wouldn't believe us," the younger human said bitterly.

Croix nodded. "And even if they did, they're not as skilled as you. You can build stuff; you can give us pointers."

"You can drive us around with your license."

"Geez, guys..." Orne replied as his cheeks turned redder than normal. "I appreciate it. If you need my help, I'll be glad to give it to you. What's the first order of business?"

Landen hopped up from the carpeted floor. "The sound system. We need to find some way to put it out of commission right once the show is over. We'll need to time it right but without the speakers working, he has no way of reaching the crowd."

"That may be difficult," Croix said. "Aamodt already has several stage crew members under his control. He'll no doubt have them looking for us in case we try anything."

"Dang it, you're right. What if there's another way? Something that doesn't require us to be backstage tomorrow night?"

"There's the projector screen," Orne suggested with a prolonged slurp. "Not quite as thorough compared with cutting the sound but it'll still throw a wrench into his plans. Since they won't lower it until the end that'd give you the opportunity to tamper with it beforehand."

A hopeful smile cracked across Landen's face. "Hey, that's a pretty good idea! They'd never know until it was too late."

"Orne, how do we disable the projector without them finding out?" Croix asked.

The older human thought about it for a moment. "Well, if it's anything like the ones at my school, there should be a control panel of some sort backstage. If you could unscrew the outer panel, cut the wires inside and screw the panel back on. That would make it appear to still be working. Alternatively, you could try jamming the motors that lower the screen to its full length. Anything sturdy enough to swing could be lodged in tight."

Landen shook his head. "I think we'll stick with the panel idea. We'd prefer to just cut a few wires instead of irreparably breaking a piece of expensive school property. If we get caught doing that…"

"We might as well submit our applications to boarding school early," the little monster finished.

"Well then," Orne clapped his hands together, "it looks like you kiddies have a plan after all. Anything else you need? I kinda have some homework to get started on."

Landen nodded. "Just one thing. We ran into some trouble while we were getting away from school and it got me thinking. Croix has his wind magic which can work pretty well in a fight. But me, being the human I am, only have my hands to rely on. Do you think you could get me something to defend myself?"

Orne rubbed his chin in thought. "Depends on what you're looking for. I have a few ideas, but some of them may take longer than others."

"Anything's fine, just whatever you can get done the quickest. We only have until tomorrow."

"I'll get on it then. See ya' guys and good luck." Orne turned to leave, trotting up the basement steps and leaving the two boys to themselves.

"My mom should be here soon," Croix remarked as their attention shifted back to one another. "Probably in the next half hour."

"Wait, how'd you know that? I didn't see you call her."

The little monster held up his phone and gestured to the messaging app. "She texted me when you were talking with your mom upstairs."

Landen sighed. "Darn, I really need to get a phone. And not one of those junky prepaid ones from _Bargain Barrel_. A real one like yours." He walked over to the rickety couch where they'd dropped their backpacks down and flopped on top of it. "Either way, is there anything you want to do while we wait?"

"We could watch wipeout videos if you want. I'd just need your house's Wifi password."

The human sprung up from the couch in an instant. "T567FCFAAB42C."

Croix tapped in the corresponding letters and digits at an agonizingly slow pace. "Okay, now it's loading and-there it goes. Which one do you want to start with? 'Wipeouts of the Week' or '100 Skateboard Fails'?"

Landen humorously raised both eyebrows in dramatic surprise. "Croix, you know me don't you?"

"'100 Skateboard Fails' then."


	13. One Last Chance

The rusted metal door labeled 'Stage Maintenance' swung open with a loud, screeching creak. Croix and Landen stood in the doorway, both looking into the complete darkness of the backstage area.

Like how it'd been the day prior, it was a dusty, cluttered labyrinth of miscellaneous (and somewhat ominous) stage equipment. Even with the premiere of the school play just hours away that evening, the stage crew still hadn't gotten around to clearing the claustrophobic network of useful junk out. Croix doubted they ever would.

"That's a pretty distinct smell," Landen remarked as a musty odor permeated out into the hallway.

Croix shrugged. "You get used to it eventually. Just be careful not to breathe in any cobwebs."

The human's face wrinkled uncomfortably. "How about you go in first then? I'll be right behind you."

Croix floated carefully over the door's threshold with Landen right behind him. Once they were both inside, Landen creaked the door shut, leaving them both without even a trickle of light.

The monster began to float forwards down the upper catwalks but was promptly stopped by Landen's hand on his shoulder.

"Wait a second," he whispered. "Lemme' make sure I have everything."

The human reached into his jean pockets and pulled out a small tool from each one. The first was a flathead screwdriver no larger than his index finger; the second was a tiny pair of wire cutters.

He gave Croix a thumbs up. "We're ready."

"Did Orne lend you those?"

"No, I took them from his toolbox. I'll tell him about it when I get home."

They crept forwards along the suspended metal pathway, making sure to step over loose wires and duck under hanging stage lights. Landen's footsteps clacked lowly against the thin platforms sending minuscule echoes through the empty space.

Croix moved with expert skill through the tightly packed maze, his experience working under Ms. Velltri giving him an almost memorized perception of where the vital stagecraft was. They twisted and turned around guardrailed routes no larger for one person to walk across at a time, gradually making progress towards a secluded corner at the catwalk's rear. They stopped within a few feet of it

A single plain white panel box stood attached to the vacant wall. A twin set of connected wires to the panel snaked upwards along the wall and off into the higher rafters above.

"This is it," Croix whispered. "The projector screen controls."

Landen nodded and stepped forwards, opening the box and brandishing the two tools in his hands. "This should only take a minute."

He started with unscrewing the inner box panel, which only held a set of two buttons. A green one to raise the screen and a red one to lower it. He gingerly removed each screw and handed them to Croix while he worked. Once finished, he placed the detached panel onto the ground and inspected the intricate curl of wires inside.

"Which ones do you think are important?" He asked over his shoulder.

The monster shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe try cutting all the yellow ones?"

"I don't know. Those ones might be the power cables. I don't want to shock myself."

"What about the red ones? There's a lot of those inside."

"I could. But what if that doesn't do anything? We need to be sure that we put this thing out of commission."

"Try cutting all the wires then. It's not like anyone would notice with the panel back on."

"I wouldn't suggest that," an adult, female, and somewhat twisted voice called from behind them. "Especially not while I'm watching."

The two boys spun around in unified shock, coming face to face with the grinning Ms. Velltri, a cruel glint flashing in her eyes as she stood a few paces away.

"Look at what you two have gotten yourselves into," she mocked with a chuckle.

* * *

Croix and Landen were the only other students sitting in detention that day. The wall clock above the classroom door clicked away as the hours passed, leaving the two boys to the horrid punishment of mind-numbing boredom.

They were kept under the watchful, nearsighted gaze of the ancient Algebra teacher: Mrs. Baruch. She was a wrinkled, ragged, insectoid monster with a jutting nose and a massive pair of glasses perched atop her face. She eyed both of them with a consistently scowling face, occasionally looking up from her grading work only to snort at their very sight.

Velltri had sentenced them to the harsh punishment herself, no doubt under the influence of Aamodt's will. Croix had done his best to appeal to her kinder side and the relationship they'd had prior, but the young teacher would have none of it.

Now they sat mute beside one another in the vacant classroom, waiting for the eventual salvation of the three o'clock bell to come. They had about two more hours to go.

Mrs. Baruch looked up from her work once again and gave an unusually loud snort, this time rising from her chair.

"I'm going to get something from the teacher's lounge," she hissed. "None of you say a word while I'm gone."

Her elfish heels clicked against the drab linoleum floor as she walked to the door. Thrusting it open with another snort, she slammed it harshly as she exited.

"We don't have much time," Landen said quickly as he turned to Croix. "As soon as we're done here we'll need to get moving."

"You have a plan?" The monster asked hopefully.

"A vague one, and it's a little bit desperate. But it's all we have."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, as we've found out, Aamodt's got several components necessary for his plan to work. He has the video projector, the projector screen, the TV transceiver, and the sound system. If we can knock three of these four out, he won't have anything to work with."

"The thing is, you have the play tonight, which means we're not going to be together for this one. You'll be around the stage for a majority of the night while I'll be free to move around _except_ for the stage. That gives us the opportunity to divide up what we need to do. With your access backstage, you can still find a way to take out the sound system and the projector screen. With my freedom of movement, I can take out the transceiver and possibly the video projector if you're not able to get the screen first."

Croix looked unsure of the idea. "But how would we do that? How would we coordinate everything?"

"We're just gonna play it by ear," Landen shrugged. "Orne was right, the time for action is now. If an opportunity presents itself, take it. Keep your eyes open for any chance you have in sneaking past or distracting Aamodt's goons. I doubt he has everything planned out. And if necessary, fight. The entire fate of Crystal Bay could be resting on what we do tonight."

"Okay," Croix said earnestly. "It's all we have. Just try to be safe, though. You know what he's capable of."

"Exactly, which is why I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Orne's been able to-"

It was at that moment that the heavy clicking of Mrs. Bauch's shoe heels could be heard down the hallway, sounding like tiny firecrackers with each step she made.

"We'll talk on the way out," Landen gave a promised whisper. "I have something important to give you."

 **Hey guys, Sion here.**

 **A bit of a shorter chapter this time around, but don't worry, things are really gonna start heating up as these next few chapters progress. I would just like to once again thank all of you guys who are still following this story. It was awesome to make and I hope it's as well awesome to read. As always, a new chapter coming next week. But until then, I'll you guys later!**


	14. Enter Stage Left

Several hours later, Croix found himself sitting in the passenger side seat of his mom's car, staring out the window anxiously as the neighborhood slipped by him.

It was nearly dusk by the time he'd gotten home, giving him only a few brief minutes of relaxation before going right back to where he'd been a majority of the day.

His mom, her eyes focused on the road, gave a suddenly dejected sigh. "It's a shame your dad won't be able to see you tonight. He was so excited to see you perform. Had the date marked and everything." She sighed once again, glancing over at him. "But of course, that business trip popped up out of nowhere. We're both really sorry."

In truth, Croix wasn't all too torn up over the matter. His dad had missed out on numerous special occasions due to his cumbersome work schedule, making the current one more like a drop in the bucket. He was certainly disappointed, but his emotions were more occupied by Aamodt and just how he'd stop the child in black's plan for that night.

He looked over at his mom, who'd focused her attention back on the road. She'd be in the audience with all the other adults, all the other parents ecstatic to see their children perform the play they'd been working passionately on since August. She, like everyone else, was in danger the moment they walked into the school auditorium and took their seat.

Croix shivered at the very thought of his mom being just like what Ms. Velltri had become, a mindless drone under the direct control of a sadistic, evil creature. And what would he do then? What would Aamodt do with a crowd of entirely at his will? What was he planning after that? He had no idea, which frightened him even more.

For now, he'd focus on what he and Landen had planned out earlier that day in detention. It was all any of them had at the moment.

He felt the stiff tug of the walkie talkie his friend had given him earlier. The plastic electronic, no larger than a business card, was covertly slipped on under his brown cloak. He'd have some difficulty in finding a safe place to hide it once he switched into his costume at school but figured they'd be at least one good pocket to use.

Crystal Bay Junior High came into view along the road. Croix unconsciously gulped down a swell of fear as they swung around towards the back parking lot beside the auditorium. It must've been fairly loud because his mom patted him gently on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, Croie. You're going to do fine. Everybody gets the jitters before big things like this."

He appreciated the encouragement, feeling a sense of determination at his mother's words. He smiled up at her. "Thanks, Mom. That means a lot."

"Don't mention it, sweetie. It's what I'm here for."

She brought the car to a halt out in front of the exterior auditorium doors. With a deep breath, Croix unfastened his seatbelt and pushed the door open with his wind magic, floating out of his seat and onto the concrete pathway leading up to the building.

Several other cast and crew members were as well getting dropped off by their parents, creating a consistent stream of kids filing into the building. He was about to shut the car door and join the flow of people inside but stopped himself suddenly.

Spinning around, he looked his mom directly in her glowing blue eyes. "I love you, Mom!" he called with a cheerful beam and a wave.

His mom looked perplexed at this, took back by the sudden show of open affection by her son, especially in public. She was on the cusp of asking if he was feeling _unusually_ nervous to say such a thing but quickly brushed the thought away, instead returning the smile and blowing him a maternal kiss.

"I love you too, Croie!" She hollered back with the window rolled down. "You'll do great!"

And with that, she was gone, driving away from the lot only to return in just a few hours time. A feeling of regret gnawed at Croix as he watched her drive away. A part of him wished he'd warned her of what was to come that night, even if she wouldn't have believed him. He'd just have to try his very hardest against the coming darkness and do everything in his power to save the people he loved most.

* * *

What followed was a straight hour of preparation by the cast and stage crew. Finishing touches were put on the sets, power cables were connected, microphones were sound checked, makeup was applied, costumes were adorned, and a few early arrivals in the audience were already claiming the best seats in the theater.

Croix had quickly slipped into his costume, a flowing and regal set of silken blue robes that nearly touched the floor when he hovered at his standard height. He'd as well already had the proper alterations down to his shadowy face in the form of powder and just a little bit of blush to his cheeks.

He'd given himself a brief look in a nearby mirror and couldn't help but feel proud of how far he'd come since the production had first gotten started. So much had happened in such a short period. It was incredible that an organization almost entirely comprised of kids had been able to plan and produce an act so elaborate. It was even more amazing that they'd been able to do it for several years now at Crystal Bay.

The glow of pride stuck with him as he continued to stare into the mirror, only trickling away when the voice of Ms. Velltri called for the entire cast to assemble. Reality returned.

He bunched up with everybody else near the closed red curtain. Nearly everybody was ready. Each actor or actress in their fantasy-esque robes or armor or tunic, taut but colorful leggings intertwined with riding boots or sired slippers. It was a romantic picture of delightfully archaic dress, perfectly captured by the costume department to paint a warm picture of what days-gone-by had once looked like.

That was to say, except for Aamodt, who stood off from the rest of the group, his arms crossed as he looked away from everyone else. He was dressed in a tattered set of obsidian robes, his ink-black hair disheveled by purposeful gel, and his already pale skin powdered to an even more ghostly shade. What was most striking was that this was the first time Croix had seen the boy in black without his concealing set of glasses, revealing a pair of startlingly dark eyes that seem to blacken in the light.

Ms. Velltri came marching out from the lower prep room with the last stragglers getting into the crowd of thespians. Her complexion looked a little more drained since Croix had last seen her, almost to that of a muted gray. Her butterscotch hair was as well a darker shade, with what looked like wearied, bloodshot eyes that spoke of painful exhaustion.

Still, the blonde human woman regarded everybody with her trademark smile and seemed almost ready to explode with contained excitement, giving a slight squeal before she spoke.

"Well everybody, this is it! After everything _we've_ done, after everything _you've_ done, we're finally at the end of it all!" She clapped her palms together. "My oh my has it been one ride for us all. Auditions, practices, costume fittings, dress rehearsals, more practices. It seemed like opening night would never come, and we'd just be preparing for this fateful night forever."

She smiled even brighter. "But tonight we know that isn't true. Tonight, we know that all of our hard work, perseverance, and determination _does_ pay off in the end. And now we've got a crowd of all your parents and friends just _waiting_ to see you giving it everything you've got! Don't hold back, not even for a minute, because this is your guys' time to shine. This is where you all deserve to be."

It was hard to tell who started the clapping, but in just a few seconds Ms. Velltri was getting a standing ovation by the already standing cast members. The woman glimmered with appreciation at the kind display and profusely thanked everyone as they continued to show their appreciation for their teacher.

As Croix clapped along with everyone else, he couldn't help but shoot a glance over at Aamodt, curious as to how the strange child would react to such a thing. To his discomfort, the child in black was staring right at him, grinning from ear to ear as the rest of the class continued to cheer for Ms. Velltri. He brought a single finger to his lips, pantomiming a hushing gesture, his face still smirking cruelly.

But instead of looking away, Croix glared back at the human, shaking his head stiffly, much to the surprise of the twisted child.

 _I hope you're ready Landen_ Croix thought to himself. _Because he sure is._


	15. Off the Air

Landen sped down the residential streets of his neighborhood, the grumbling growl of the motorized bicycle ambiently sounding out as he pushed the engine to its maximum. He could feel the heat of the jury-rigged lawnmower engine warming the edges of his pant legs, giving hint that it could only take a certain amount of strain before burning out.

He didn't care. He needed to get back to school as quickly as possible. If the engine stalled, he could very well pedal the rest of the way.

Croix was more than likely already set up and ready to go with the other kids in his class, leaving him preoccupied to get a head start on whatever Aamodt had planned. From what they discussed after detention, Croix had a consistent gauntlet of scenes to perform in, only getting a rest by the play's third and final act.

This meant he'd be going at it alone for a majority of the night. That in of itself was most frightening for him.

He stopped his bike about a block from school and hid it in some nearby bushes.

He carried with him a simple cloth satchel full of necessary tools for the night's endeavors, a treasure trove of gadgetry graciously given to him by his brother Orne. It contained everything he'd need for the evening and a few other surprises. Tightening the satchel strap across his chest, he sprinted the rest of the way.

Crystal Bay Junior High shone in the distance. The entire school was alight with activity. Car after car drove past the school's parking lots, filling what little space was available to the brim. Hordes of people flocked in through the main doors on their way to the auditorium while the classroom and office lights had been left on to illuminate the building for the exciting occasion.

It was shining monument in the distance, one that filled Landen with dread as he looked upon it, knowing what creature lurked inside its inviting presence.

He knelt down from across the street, brandishing a pair of binoculars from the satchel and bringing them level with his eyes. He scanned the front entrance and sidewalks leading up to it. If the option presented itself, he'd certainly waltz in through the front door, happy to keep his point of entry as uncomplicated as possible. But of course, such was not the case.

He spotted a group of black-clad students standing idly outside, chatting as friends while occasionally eyeing the entering patrons. They were no doubt looking for someone.

 _Me_ he thought to himself. Which meant he'd have all the more troubling in actually making his way inside. Thankfully, he'd planned for such an occasion.

He sprinted across the street towards the school, arcing his way around the building until he reached the side directly opposite to where the auditorium lied.

It was an older section of the school, where thick layers of vines snaked up the ancient brick and mortar like leafy slime. They'd gotten so thick over the years that the custodial staff had practically given up in trying to contain its growth, leaving only small openings in the sea of vertical green for the windows to still be visible.

Landen unzipped the satchel once again and this time pulled a thin metal wedge. Without skipping a beat, he zipped the bag back up and placed the metal strip into his mouth. With all his appendages free, he took two tight fistfuls of the vines before him and began to climb.

He moved as fast as he could. Hand over hand. His feet digging in as deep as they could go within the tangle of photosynthesised rope. Not once did he look down and not once did he waver in his scaling. Despite his young age, Landen was well aware that his upper body strength wouldn't last him forever and that no safety net awaited him on the ground below. He'd either do it right the first time or not at all.

Eventually reaching a classroom window, at least three stories off the ground, he pulled from his mouth the shiny wedge and jammed it into the window sill. Bits of paint chipped off as the thrusting force nearly made him slip backward. His free hand and feet gripped the vines even tighter as he steadied his body against the building.

His knuckles whitened at how stiffly he held on. The tips of his tennis shoes were nearly enveloped by the ropes' shrubbery. But even then, he knew it wouldn't make a bit of difference if he screwed up. He might have few seconds of time correct himself if his hands slipped, but not enough to catch himself if he lost his leverage entirely.

Landen took a deep breath and reached back over to the wedge with his free, now shaking hand. He nudged the thin strip of metal as deep as he could under the window, angling it back and forth with a desperate surge of energy. But it wouldn't go any deeper, and the window refused to pop open.

This left him with one contingency plan.

His stamina beginning to falter, inklings of sweat appearing across his brow, Landen climbed a few feet further until he was directly over the window and the embedded wedge. He did the unthinkable action of looking down to make sure he was positioned correctly. And then, with fear coursing through him the moment his eyes met the ground, he dropped himself feet first.

He plummeted for less than a millisecond, both his feet impacting expertly on the wedge. The aged window flew open on its vertical slide, slamming against the top of its sill and releasing the wedge from its grasp.

On instinct, Landen reached out with both arms toward the window just as it was forced open and his small point of footing tumbled to the blacktop. His chest smacked against the ancient concrete edifice outlining the window, knocking the wind out of his hyperventilating lungs.

Panic still gave him the strength to pull himself through the window, stumble to their darkened classroom's floor, and thrash the window shut.

* * *

Landen had the urge to send out an update to Croix letting him know he'd made it inside the school but decided against it. His friend was no doubt performing at the moment and wouldn't be able to answer his walkie talkie even if he wanted to. Not to mention how embarrassing something like that would be when in front of an audience full of hundreds of people.

Which left him on his own for the time being. It wouldn't be until the third act that Croix would be able to excuse himself and fulfill his part of the plan. When that would be was anyone's guess, but the little monster had promised to give him a call over the radio once he was in the clear. Until then...it was all on him.

He made his way out of the classroom and quietly closed the door behind him. He was standing in one of the well-lit corridors, row after row of classroom doors on each side of him and going down a considerable distance.

He trained his ear for a moment in case anyone was nearby. Aamodt had already had some of his goons posted out in front of the entrance. There was no telling how many he had patrolling the halls or watching from the shadows. Landen wasn't defenseless if he came across one of them alone, but in a group of three or four, there wouldn't be a chance. He, like everyone else, had his limits.

Gradually, he made his around the school toward the auditorium, checking over his shoulder as he stepped softly through the halls. He didn't come across a soul during his trek through the vacant school, implying that the play was now well underway and holding the majority attention.

 _Which is just what I need_ he thought to himself.

The sound of overly dramatic, child acting began to sound out in the distance, notifying he was getting close. He took the nearest stairwell up to the fourth floor and followed the source of the sound. He could practically feel the loud vibrations of it echoing against the walls. Oh yes, he was close.

The vibrations increased and increased. He could make out the dialogue behind the walls, the auditorium's acoustics projecting the sound as if he was right on stage. Words grew in melodrama, in passion, in volume. It was like with each step he grew closer to an epicenter of sound, the waves of noise cascading against his mind like torrents.

The odd intrusion began to bother him, and he brought a hand to both of his ears. But he could still hear the vibrations; the words started to get lost in a swirl of welling treble and bass that seemed to smack his brain from all sides. He could barely focus on his footsteps against the corridor floor, a dreadful tearing in his head beginning to take form.

He slipped both hands away from his ears to the temples of his skull and began to wince as he trudged forwards down the stretched hallway. His feet were becoming more sluggish as he walked, the pain in his head causing his vision to blur and disjoint. He felt one of his legs cross over one another as he shuffled forwards, feet slipping in what seemed like slow motion, the ground approaching like a bead of honey.

And then he saw the glasses. For just a second, in such a brief moment that one would miss it if they blinked, an empty pair of silver lensed spectacles appeared in his mind's eye. Hanging in an empty darkness that stared back at him as if a tangible being in of itself, silently watching him with a quieted dread he'd only felt once before. It suddenly all made sense.

 _Get out_ his mind commanded softly as the floor continued its course towards his head, it's intent clear in cracking his skull wide open. _I know it's you and you don't belong here._

The vibrations began to lessen, he could feel his hands began to reach out to catch his fall.

 _You're scared that you'll lose, scared that everything you've worked towards was for nothing. That's why you're trying so hard to stop us, aren't you?_

The vibrations began to waver. His vision began to clear.

 _But the truth is: you've already lost to us. You just don't know it-_

The sound was growing more distant and he sensed his muscles tense in preparation for impact.

 _-Aamodt_.

He fell to the floor. The horrid noise and sensations were gone, replaced with a relaxing calm that soothed his weathered mind. He breathed in deeply.

As Landen rose from the floor, he realized he'd fallen right beside the closed wooden, the only of which that stood in the empty, aged hallway. Written across opaque glass in its center were the words: Broadcasting Room

He reached forward to try the knob. The door swung open on command.

The chamber was a cramped space barely broad enough to fit three people. TV and computer monitors lined the room's sides while a large control board sprawled in the chamber's center. Just past the board's threshold was a fair sized window overlooking the entire theater, faint trickles of the play's dialogue making their way into the secluded box.

There was a single occupant to the room. The unconscious body of a human child laid flat across the tacky carpeting, eyes wide and staring, a slight trail of drool rolling out of its mouth. They were dressed in all black.

Landen knelt down and shut the kid's eyes with his palm. He then double-checked just to make sure the child was breathing properly.

He couldn't help but wonder if the unconscious child had been the one responsible for the assault on his mind or perhaps just a conduit through which Aamodt had projected himself. It would be terrifying to think if the sadistic child could transfer his power onto others or act through them like mindless puppets. He'd already shown just how far he could go with his talents, who was to say it couldn't go any further?

He shook the thought away. There was no sense in pondering the possibilities. He could do that later. A job still needed doing.

He quickly located the transceiver box, an ancient looking VCR of dusty metal and wood that was connected to an even more aged television monitor displaying the ongoing play. Landen yanked out the transceiver wires, switched off its power switch, unplugged it from the wall, and covertly stuffed it behind a utility locker.

The deed done, he reached into his satchel and pulled out his walkie talkie and raised it to his lips. It was time to call Croix.


	16. Broken Mirror

Croix hovered anxiously around the backstage prep room. It'd been thirty minutes into the third act, and he still hadn't gotten a call from Landen. His concealed walkie talkie still hung like a brick underneath his costume robes, a physical reminder of what still needed to be done that night.

He'd done his best to scan for any opening or fluke that would allow him to get close to the projector screen controls or the central sound system, but he'd been too busy moving between scenes to get a proper perspective. His lack of progress would only complicate their plans in stopping Aamodt and make it all the more desperate as each minute clicked by.

He was just about to pace the room once again when a small electronic voice called from within the monster's outfit. Startled at the muffled sound, he rifled through his garments and pulled the walkie talkie out of its hidden position. Clutching it tightly, he ducked into the chamber's miniscule bathroom and prayed that none of the other students present had spotted him.

"Landen," he whispered sharply into the device, "what's going on? Why haven't you called me until now?"

There was a confused pause on the other line. " _Was I supposed to call you? I thought you were still performing?_ "

"I was, but I'm done now. Did something happen? Are you alright?"

Another pause. " _Something...happened. I-I must've lost track of time. Either way, I'm in a bit of a jam right now, and I need your help._ "

Croix bit the edge of his lip. "What's wrong?"

" _I was able to get the transceiver down and after a little bit of searching, I think I may have found where Aamodt has the projector set up. It's somewhere on the high balcony, just above the broadcasting room. The only problem is, the door's locked and I can't get it open._ "

"Ms. Velltri might have a key to the balcony in her office," he suggested. "I'm close by. I could run down there and bring it to you."

" _No, don't do that. I don't want to sidetrack you from taking out your objectives. I'll just get it myself._ "

Croix's grip tightened restlessly on the device. "Landen, wait! Her office is locked at night. You'll need a key to get in. Thankfully, considering all the work I did for her, I have one of my own. Just let me get the balcony key for you. I'll go as fast as I can."

" _But what about the screen and the sound system?_ " Landen pressed. " _You need to focus on those first._ "

He sighed into the receiver. "I...wasn't able to get the screen controls or sound system. I was just too overwhelmed at the moment; there's so much going on back here. I can't even tell where anything is with all these stage crew kids running around."

" _That's not gonna make anything easier for us,_ " his friend stated evenly. " _But it's all we have so we're gonna have to work with it. Alright, I'll wait up here for you to bring the key. Good luck, dude._ "

Croix slipped the walkie talkie back into his costume and exited the bathroom casually. None of the bored looking cast members seemed to notice him, the majority of their eyes transfixed on phone screens. He moved little by little over to the side of the room while keeping his movements as natural as possible.

Confident that he was close enough and was lacking just enough attention from his peers, he ducked out the side door and into the school hallway.

It was a short way to the performing arts wing of the school, another quick trek through the endless tiles of polished linoleum and fluorescent lights. His heart thudded in his chest as he flew as fast as he could, reminding himself that time was most certainly not on his side.

He gauged there was at most forty-five minutes left in the play. From there they'd only have minutes before the projector screen was lowered in place of the red curtain, the video projector switched on, and Aamodt handed the microphone. Once the twisted child in black spoke to the entire crowd, it would all be over.

He'd have five hundred plus people under his control in a single space. Five hundred monsters and humans from all walks of life, ready to descend upon the unsuspecting world outside. What would he have them do? Did he have anything planned that far?

Turning another corner, he was about to shoot off down another hallway, when he noticed a figure at the end of the corridor, blocking his way. They were older than he was, significantly taller, with a slender metal pipe held in its left hand. A sadistic grin stretched across their face.

"Hello, Croix," Ms. Velltri greeted in a voice that wasn't quite her own. "Last time I checked the auditorium was back that way." She gestured with the pipe from where he'd just came.

His face paled. Ms. Velltri looked much different from the last time he'd seen her. Her bright golden hair had faded to a dull shade of grey, the ends of which were matted and unkempt like a tendril of a snakes. Dark circles were etched under both of her eyes, perpetual shadows smeared into her gaze. Her skin had lost most of its sunny pigmentation, now a corpse-like pallor that chilled Croix to the bone.

But what was most unsettling about this distorted reflection of Ms. Velltri was the cruel expression that hung to her face. Mouth stretched and crooked on all ends into a smile that spoke of savage glee. Both her darkened eyes bore into him with such intensity that he was tempted to look away, feeling an ambient dread simply in the shattered aura it brought.

"Just what are you doing here, anyway?" She asked with a few steps toward him. "I don't remember giving students permission to wander the halls," she eyed him flatly, "even the ones who're my 'favorites.'"

He swallowed nervously, grappling with his words. "M-Ms. Velltri, p-please listen to me. Aamodt's controlling you."

The human woman chuckled. "Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you? That everything I'm doing is _entirely_ controlled by Aamodt, that any free will on my part is gone? Probably makes it easier to see me like this." She shrugged. "Maybe the Velltri you know wouldn't be this way but that's only one side of the same coin. I'm her _true_ form, the one she keeps buried under all the smiles and compliments."

"Do you know how much she hates herself? How much she wishes her life had gone a different way? Once a bright-eyed thespian with opportunity ringing from all avenues. Now a second-rate theater instructor in a dead-end job. Every time she looks in the mirror she sees nothing but failure and regret, missed opportunities draped in days gone by."

Velltri continued walking towards him, the pipe in her grasp swaying casually. "She seethes in jealousy and disgust whenever she looks upon you brat kids, anguished in knowing that you'll move on while she stays locked in this miserable little town. But of all the kids she despises, _you're_ the one she despises the most."

"Little Croix Thurii, mister overachiever, star of the class. Can't help showing just how much he cares. Oh yes, she hated you most of all. Your drive, your enthusiasm, it's something she wishes she still had. Maybe then she could make something of herself after all these years. But she won't and she can't, because she knows it still wouldn't get her anywhere."

"Th-that's not true!" Croix shouted. "Ms. Velltri is nothing like that! She's kind, forgiving, supportive. I wouldn't be where I am if it wasn't for what she's taught me. Why would anyone help someone they hate? You might be a part of her, but that doesn't mean she isn't still a good person!"

Velltri threw her head back and let out a cackle of heartless laughter. "Spoken like a real teacher's pet. You're more pathetic than I thought. Alright, if words don't convince you," she twirled the pipe into a threatening hold, "maybe a little pain will."

She dashed toward him.

She was fast, faster than he would ever thought imaginable. She was already in front of him, the pipe swinging towards his chest. He ducked under it only to feel a second strike smack against the front of his head, throwing him backwards and stumbling to the floor.

Velltri struck downwards, the metal clanging against the ground just as Croix rolled out of the way and hovered back into the air. He could feel a bleeding gash just above his forehead.

"C'mon, where's that magic I've seen you use?" She jeered. "It's the only chance you have of beating me."

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to fight you, Ms. Velltri. I know you're still in there; you just have to listen to me."

"Fine, have it your way. Just don't come crying to me when you're dead."

She swung the pipe at his center, prompting him to jump sideways to evade it. Another strike nearly connected with his head but he ducked just in time for the pipe to slam against a nearby row of lockers. A clearly defined dent was left in its place.

"You don't have to do this!" Croix pleaded as he dodged another strike. "Aamodt is just using your feelings to control you. We aren't ruled by our darker sides. "

Velltri breathed in deeply. "Oh, that's we tell ourselves, don't we? 'Good triumphs over evil,' 'an inherently just world,' 'the innocence of the soul.' Nothing's that simple, kid. And when you're older," she connected with a sharp bludgeon onto Croix's shoulder, "you'll understand."

The little monster tumbled to the floor but was already pushing himself back into the air as he spoke. "I'm not going give up on you, Ms. Velltri! You don't deserve this, no one does. Aamodt's the one making you think these things. If you just fight it, I know you can resist him." He paused, blood still trickling down his face. "I believe in you."

Velltri hesitated for a moment, lowering the pipe to her side. An odd look of realization crossed her face as if hearing a distant sound for the first time. She brought a trembling hand to her face and slowly shook her head.

"No…" She whispered. "It's too late for that. She's already been lost. She could feel it, gnawing at her, rotting her from the inside out. All it took was a little push to do away with what she once was. Now," she gestured to herself, "I _am_ Ms. Velltri."

"You know that's not true!" Croix shouted back. "There's goodness inside everyone; you just have to let it in. You aren't a lost person."

Velltri bit her lips tightly and shook her head in defeat. "I'm sorry."

She charged towards him, striking fiercely with every ounce of her strength, not giving him even a moment of chance. The dull metal attacked him all sides, bruising and bloodying, weakening his frame until he was too wounded to even attempt to evade her merciless flurry of moves. His body moaned with each impact, a stiff slice sending him hurtling through the air and crashing into another set of lockers.

He tried to get up but found his will to fight was just too frail. All he could do was look up at Velltri as she stood over him, the pipe still in her hand.

"You shouldn't have gotten involved, Croix," she lamented sadly. "It never would've come to this if you'd just stayed out of his way. But for some reason you and that friend of yours just had to keep pushing and pushing...until there was only one thing we could do."

Croix coughed weakly. "That isn't the Ms. Velltri I know. She's still in there, somewhere, pleading that this isn't right. Your will is stronger than his. I know it is. You just need to fight it."

"Too weak," she mumbled as she raised the pipe over her head, prepping herself for one final blow. "Too weak…"

It was in that instance that an explosion of dazzling, fizzing red light slammed against Ms. Velltri's chest, propelling her backwards like buckshot and throwing her across the hall into a row of lockers. A rushing swell of heat filled the corridor and Croix could swear he heard what sounded like several firecrackers going off all at once.

He lied there, confused, dazed, but incredibly thankful to whoever had just saved him. A few moments later, he got his answer.

"Croix!" Landen yelled as he rushed to his side. "Oh my gosh! Are you alright? Does anything feel broken?"

He smiled at the sight of his friend bent down before him. "I'm just a little banged up. She didn't hurt me too bad."

"You're bleeding!" Landen exclaimed in fright as he noticed the large wound just above his eyes. "Oh my gosh, it looks horrible!" He unslung the satchel from around his neck and began to search through it quickly. "Thankfully, I packed something just for the occasion."

The human pulled out a sterile white towel and began to gently dab the blood away with a surprising amount of precision. "You're lucky I brought this along," Landen said while he worked. "There's no telling how quickly an infection could set in, and then where would be, hmm?"

That done, he then stuck a large bandage across the cleaned wound and tied it into place with medical tape. He sighed. "If only you had healing magic, like your mom. You might have a nasty scar up there."

"She'll be able to fix it," Croix reasoned with another sickly cough.

"Well, until then," Landen helped him back into the air, "make sure to tell me if you still feel it bleeding. I've got a lot more medical tape in my bag." He looked over at the unconscious body of Ms. Velltri, a thin layer of smoke wisping off her frame. "Who's that psycho lady by the way? It seemed like you two knew each other from what I heard."

"That's my theater instructor, Ms. Velltri," he explained dejectedly. "Aamodt was controlling her, making her say these horrible things. I did my best to try and get through to her…" He sighed. "But I guess it wasn't enough."

"Then I guess you could say it was good that I made it here in time. The thought crossed my mind that he might have some goons patrolling this wing of the school. I ran over here as fast as I could."

Croix nodded. "Thanks for that, by the way. But what did you use to stop her with? It looked like fire magic or something."

"Something like that," his friend grinned mischievously, brandishing a bulky looking red pistol from his pants pocket. "Although, it's not very magical."

The little monster's jaw dropped. "Is that a...gun?"

"What? No! It's a flare gun. Fires big bright fireworks that explode. It's entirely non-lethal force. Orne had it stowed away from a failed project of his. Something about portable smoke signals. I don't know."

"Either way," he mock-fired the weapon down the hall, "this Lil' Devil can give us a fighting chance against Aamodt and his goons."

"Really?" Chided a third voice as they were grabbed violently from behind. "Somehow...I doubt that."


	17. World's End

Landen and Croix struggled against their captors, doing their best to break away from the vice-like grips that grappled them from behind.

"I wouldn't suggest resisting," Aamodt pointed out as he approached them at a comfortable stride. "With a snap of my fingers, I could have them crack your wrists like chicken bones and then where would we be?"

Gradually, the two boys took the threat to heart and stopped moving about. The boy in tattered obsidian robes smiled at their complacency, prompting both of them to glare back at him.

"There we go," he chided. "Isn't that better?"

"You're a monster!" Croix shouted. "How could you hurt Ms. Velltri like that?!"

Aamodt chuckled. "Last time I checked, _you're_ the monster. And it was your friend here who shot her unprovoked," he motioned to Landen. "As for the little modifications to her foolish mind...well, I always do enjoy a little decadence."

He sighed happily. "Such a delicious soul of hers. Ripe with suffering and darkness. Oh yes, quite a treat. I'll admit I may have taken a bit too much off her but it'll reform in time. Just give her a few days."

"But she was right in what she told you. That _is_ a side of her. I just got her believing it was the only one that mattered."

"How are you doing this?!" Landen demanded. "Why do you want to control so many people? What are you!?"

"Questions, questions, questions, young Landen Fonten. If you ask so many at once, you'll never get the answers you want. But…" He leaned toward the other human, whispering fiercely. "I'd hoped you would've figured it out by now."

"You have magic," the other human growled back, "just like the wizards from ancient times."

"Oh, right you are young one, right you are! What gave it away? The enthrallment of my minions? Projecting lightning from my fingertips? Freezing dear Doctor Zeniow in place? Or perhaps it was the little heart to heart we had by your locker all those weeks ago?" He scoffed. "Honestly, though, it was like you two youngsters were _trying_ to remain clueless all this time. Pitiful."

"We're the same age, jerk," Croix cut in. "You don't have to try and act like an adult. You're not fooling anyone."

Aamodt grit his teeth slightly. "Don't let the appearance fool you, boy. I'm far older than any of you could possibly comprehend. I've seen the crumbling of empires, the foundation of sciences, the exploration of the world, the horrors of endless wars. I've walked across the surface of every continent, experienced ways of life the world has never seen, gazed upon every mystery this universe could ever offer."

He shook his head in content. "And yet, after everything, it appears that all roads have led me here. Crystal Bay. Such a quaint little town I must say. Very peaceful. Not where I'd imagined this all to end but...well, life's full of little surprises after all."

"That's not explaining anything," Croix shot back. "You're just bragging."

"But you still expect us to know what you're talking about," Landen added. "Do you even listen to yourself when you open your mouth?"

"Silence!" The child in black hissed, startling even his shadowed goons. "You mortal worms don't even know of whom you speak to. I am Aamodt the Unforgiving! Bane of Monsterkind! Ruler of Zpheria! Last of the Wizards! Magic courses through my veins like a rushing current. I carry with me the destiny of the world, one ruled by its rightful masters."

"Monsters, humans, all feeble and inferior. _We_ caused the banishment of monsters from the surface, sealing them underground for all of eternity, saving mankind in the process. And what did they do to repay us? Betrayal. We were hunted, slaughtered. Tossed away like relics out of the human's fear of our power."

"But as you can see," he placed a hand upon his chest, "they missed one. And now, after all these years, we will finally have our revenge."

"That's not possible," Croix said, "no one, not even a monster, can live that long. You should be dead."

Aamodt smiled sadistically. "There's other ways for life to continue, Croix Thurii. You must know that the human soul persists, even after the body dies? Binding one's soul to a particular object instead of allowing it to pass on can be very simple if one wields the proper spell and has a powerful enough conduit. Thankfully, I had both."

He reached into the sweeping midnight furls of his shadowed robes and pulled out a glimmering gold trinket, two pyramids sealed together and threaded through with a golden chain that seemed to wrap around the child's fingers like water.

"I gave this to my grandson just days before my original body passed. When it finally did, my soul had no trouble finding its way into the child. And from there the line began. I gave the trinket to his grandson, and that grandson to his grandson, and that grandson to his grandson. Year after year went by, a new body for every century, but never enough magic in their blood for my power to properly manifest. That is until I came into possession of the form you see now."

Landen's eyes widened in frigid terror. "So you've possessed your descendants against their wills' for all these years? That's insane!"

"They wouldn't have gone on to anything important; anyone would know that. Cursed to a life of standard existence. Mundane, what you'd expect from anybody living in their time period. A minor noble? A railroad owner? A ship captain? A merchant? A soldier? What would they have contributed to the fate of the world? Nothing. I gave them purpose and their bodies have served me well."

"So you want to take over the world?" Croix said with disbelief. "There's no way you can enthrall that many people all by yourself. People will stop you. You'll eventually lose."

Aamodt rose an eyebrow. "Who said anything about enthralling? It's souls I'm after, several of them. With that power, I will become a god, and nothing will stand in my way."

"This body, despite its aptitude with magic, can't seem to absorb the soul of another upon their death, monster or human. And believe me, I've tried. Instead, it feeds off of the soul, draws upon its power while still leaving the person intact and alive. By surrendering the will of another to my own, their soul becomes vulnerable to this power."

"One, two, even ten souls at a time aren't enough. But five hundred? Five hundred fresh souls just waiting to be graced by my divinity? Oh yes, five hundred will be more than sufficient. It will be a fantastic sensation. All that power, all that delicious pain. And then? Once I've reached the pinnacle of my abilities? Then I'll have quite the treat, absorbing the souls of everyone in this stain of a town. I'll be unstoppable and the world will finally kneel before its true master."

He glanced up at a nearby wall clock and grinned. "It looks like we're just out of time. I have an important speech to give just after the 'curtain' falls. A shame neither of you will be able to hear it." He pointed a hand out at the fallen body of Ms. Velltri and tightened his grip suddenly.

"Rise," he commanded.

And like a possessed corpse, Ms. Velltri rose from the floor. Eyes glazed over like marbles and skin paler than silver; she marched lifelessly over to Aamodt without a word.

"Take them away," he commanded to the goons holding the two boys. "I'll kill them when I get back."

And at that, the sadistic child in black turned to leave, the husk of Ms. Velltri following after him into the world's end.


	18. As One

Landen and Croix were led outside with the two enthralled students still clutching them mercilessly. Two other members of Aamodt's black adorned minions waited for them by the entryway, nodding to their comrades if they'd already been informed of the situation. They followed the wordless procession without command.

The night was still as they were escorted off school grounds and onto a residential street, steadily growing further and further away from the illuminated school in the distance.

As they walked in silence, Croix looked to Landen inquisitively, his glowing yellow eyes bright as day. It was as if to say: _what's our plan?_

Landen returned the look with a knowing grin, replying: _don't you already know?_

Croix paused for a moment, confused as to what the look meant and the context to it. And suddenly, strangely, as if a flash of light shot through his mind, he knew. The entire idea played through his mind in perfect clarity as if he'd conceived it himself right then and there. But he hadn't and yet he felt he had. Inexplicably, he knew.

The little monster nodded his head. Landen nodded back.

A few seconds later, Landen fell to the sidewalk, the sudden shift of weight surprising the student binding him enough for his grip to slip free on one of his hands.

"Ahhhhh," Landen writhed dramatically in pain, cradling his knee with his free hand. "Oh man...owwwww…"

"Get up," the child holding him commanded flatly, yanking his other arm roughly.

But Landen only howled louder, squirming in mock pain. "My stradivarius...I think I broke my stradivarius...ohhhhhh…"

One of the free-handed minions stepped forward, bending over as if to hoist Landen up by his shoulders. As he did that, with one hand still bound tightly, Landen burst up into a sitting position and brought a stunning fist straight against the child's ear.

Stunned by the force, the enthralled student reeled back in a daze, grabbing blindly in the air as if to latch onto something for support. The student holding his arm, realizing the ploy, pulled sharply upwards on it, coaxing a legitimate scream in pain from the trapped human.

Enraged, Landen swung around and brought a sharp jab right into the student's groin, finally releasing his other hand.

The goon holding Croix lessened his grasp unconsciously at the display, in shock over just how quickly the situation had turned south. Seeing his chance, Croix rocketed out of the thrall's embrace, firing a torrent of wind magic that knocked the unsuspecting student to the ground.

Landen shakily got back to his feet, still feeling the moan of pain buzzing in his arm. He could see someone in black charging toward him out of the corner of his eye before they were swatted up in a gust of air and thrown against the nearest tree.

"Are you alright?" Croix called to Landen as he fired another burst of magic at the minion initially holding him, stumbling the student several yards backward but not subduing them.

"I'm all right," he replied with several strained pants. His eyes darted around his vicinity just in time to see the student whom he'd punched earlier charge toward him with two fiery auras clutched in their hands. A horrid look of rage was smeared across their face with what looked like a bat's head snarling at him in the dark.

The monster bounded into him and immediately tried to strike him with one of its glowing palms. Landen grabbed both of the furious bat monster's wrists and attempted to thrust the enthralled student to the ground. Unfortunately, all he could do was grapple the other student, his weak arm making anything past that unbearable to even conceive.

"Croix, one of these guys has magic!" Landen shouted as he pushed the monster's hands as far away from his body as he could. He could feel the heat of their flame magic nipping at his fingertips, the thin-skinned flesh around them growing warmer and warmer the longer he held on. The bat monster thrashed about, doing its best to break his hold with a tenacity that made his muscles ache under the continued strain. He could feel his resolve begin to slip.

The bat monster, noticing his dwindling strength, tactically swung with both of its arms to the right, breaking Landen's grip.

They stood for a moment, the enthralled student with both its hands spread, clutching the simmering auras of fire, almost seeming to grin at his now defenseless opponent. Gulping down fear, the human hefted both his fists into a fighting stance, showing that he still had refusal left in him.

And then a burst of wind magic smacked into the monster, sending it sprawling to the grass in a painful heap. Landen turned around to see Croix floating just a few yards away, the unconscious bodies of two black-clad goons lying on the sidewalk.

"Are you hurt?" The little monster asked as he hovered over to him. "I saw how close that fire was to you, close enough for you to get burned. I would've helped sooner but...I got rushed by those two at the same time, and I didn't want to hurt them too bad…"

Landen nodded his head in understanding. "That's fine. I was able to keep the magic far enough away from me. But that other guy who was holding me," he gestured to where the goon still lied on the sidewalk, clutching his groin, "did something to my arm. I'll be alright for now, but it does kind of strain whenever I move it." He paused. "Are you hurt?"

"No. Those two could barely even get a hold of me with how fast I was moving." He paused as well, a light breeze pushing past them. "We should get going," he said calmly. "The play is almost over."

Landen nodded once again, walking idly over to where the goon lied. He found his flare gun stuffed into the student's pockets, still loaded with another round and ready for action. He unzipped his satchel and dropped the weapon back inside.

He stared out at the glimmering school in the distance, casting a look as if he'd just seen the building for the first time in his life. Croix floated up beside him, too looking out at the shining monument just in their reach.

"Let's go save the world." One of them said.

And then they were running.

* * *

They ran. Faster than they're bodies could carry them. Faster than the wind would allow. The dark streets of Crystal Bay blew past them as they moved with determined ease back towards the school, moving perpendicular to one another, neither wanting to overtake the other.

"So what's the plan?" Croix asked with his eyes focused steadily forwards.

"Do we even need one anymore?" Landen replied. "We stop Aamodt. It's as simple as that."

"But how? We've seen what he's capable of. I doubt my wind magic would even be able to get past him."

"Then we throw everything we have at him. He's not immortal, not yet. And as we've seen so far, he makes mistakes. We just need to count on him making one when we get to the theater."

"Landen…" Croix said cautiously, "you do realize we could die here tonight."

The human shook head as if trying to get something out of his mind. "I know. But Orne was right; this isn't a time for planning, it's a time for action. No matter if we stop him or die trying at least we did something. If we hesitate for even a second, he'll devour enough souls to get his final power, and then they'll be no going back. The world will end right then and there."

"But what if _you_ die," Croix said, "and I live? I don't want to make it seem like you're a burden in all this, but you don't have magic. If he scores a direct hit on you...that's it, you're done. And I couldn't imagine how things would be without you, knowing that there could've been something that I could've done to protect you. I couldn't bear it…"

"I'm not going to pretend like we're equals," his friend stated grimly, "but this is something both of us have to carry. There's no way I'm going to let you step into that theater without me. We're friends after all, and friends always stand by each other. Always."

They kept on running, crossing the street back to the school property and back towards the front doors. An odd silence held over the exterior of the school, persisting as they burst through the set of double doors and into the entryway atrium.

Their bodies whizzed down the corridors, the silence still with them the further and further they went. It hung eerily as they approached the theater, both looking focused on what was to come.

A faint echo began to sound out, a voice in the silence that grew stronger with each rapid step they took. It was distorted at first, garbled, nearly impossible to make out even the remnant of a word.

But then they heard it, both in unison. A familiar voice rang through their eyes at the same instant, projected by a blaring sound system. Their hearts sank as they continued to run.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Aamodt announced, the snake-like venom behind his words dripping across every syllable. "It truly has been a fantastic night for us all. I'd like to thank the entire cast, crew, and Ms. Velltri for making this such a wonderful occasion for everyone to appreciate."

The words were becoming clearer. They ran faster.

"But there's someone else I'd like to thank for everything they've done, and for everything they're about to do as we continue along in our lives. They may not realize it; they may not even be aware they've helped at all, but little does this person know just how much they've been able to contribute here tonight."

The words were becoming calmer, more relaxing, more enticing. They ran even faster.

"That 'person' is all of you sitting here tonight, giving support to what's about to take place! Every single one of you will personally contribute to one of the greatest, if not _the_ greatest event of our times. All of you are wonderful, intelligent, useful people. And that's why I would like to ask for your attention just for a moment."

The words were already gripping the audience's will. The two boys pictured the crisp white projector screen standing idly behind where Aamodt spoke, the sadistic child gesturing to where the video projector had been hidden up above the locked balcony. They pictured the image of Aamodt's face stretched across the entire screen, grinning widely at the unsuspecting crowd as their collective minds slowly slipped away.

"Want I want all of you to do is to look at me as I look at you. Keep your eyes focused straight ahead. Not to the side, not behind you, directly-at-me. And keep your eyes there, don't look away, look into my eyes. Hear my voice, let it guide you. Open your mind to my own. My thoughts are your thoughts. Your thoughts are my thoughts. Your is will is my will."

"Bring your pain to mind. Your darkest fears, your deepest regrets. All that baggage you've kept buried for so long. Bring it to mind. Think about it, picture it, imagine it, relive it. How does it make you feel? Distressed? Enraged? Guilty? Hold onto these feelings, don't bury them like you always have. Keep them in mind...leave them... _for me_."

They imagined the boy grinning as his amplified voice was practically on top of them, his pale hand reaching for the odd trinket in his robes, suddenly exposing it to the bright stage lights scorching down on him. He smiled.

And then it was gone, the amplified voice suddenly cut off entirely. The still silenc returned to the seemingly endless maze of hallways. They both didn't stop running.

"It stopped," Landen said. "Why can't we hear him anymore?"

"I don't know," Croix replied. "But something tells me we're almost out of time. I can sense it."

"Yeah…" Landen murmured in low reply, looking perturbed. "So can I…"

They arrived outside the theater a few moments later, blasting through the connected entryway and skidding to a halt in front of the wide doors leading into the auditorium. To their equal shock, they were locked and there still wasn't a sound for inside.

Landen brought a sharp shoulder against one of the sealed doors, his body smacking roughly against the surface but not seeming to make much progress. Croix, without request, began to project his wind magic against it as well, thrashing it repeatedly with everything he had.

It first, it seemed that their combined action was pointless, the door refusing to buckle against their persistence. But gradually, the wood began to warp with each crash, the hinges popping outwards, the paint chipping with each strike. They continued into they could feel their added strength just on the cusp of breaking the surface down, stepping away from the last shattered barrier in their way.

They knew what lied beyond that door and knew that once they entered, there'd be no going back. The two friends looked to one another.

"Ready?" One of them said.

"Ready." Said the other.

They charged forwards as one, smashing through the door in a single force. The wooden door crumpled against their combined crash, falling to the carpeted floor of the auditorium as they dashed inside.

The theater was still dark. The audience still quiet. But the unnatural silence was no longer there.

Instead, a rushing wind seemed to have filled the entire chamber. It screamed in their ears as spare playbills and traces of dust flew every which way through the crowd. A bright light shone up from center stage, like the gleam of a distant star made bright in an instant. The two boys squinted at the light, doing their best not to look away from whatever it was.

Gradually, the light began to fade away, revealing the figure that no doubt stood behind it. And despite their knowledge of this, both boys heard the other gasp a single choked breath, as despair seemed to suck the very wind out of both of them.

It hovered over the stage. It's glowing, blue star skin just barely shrouded by a set of tattered midnight robes. It was nearly nine feet tall with long tattered wings that shone with the same unnatural light, extending outwards like a wounded hawk.

Its composure was skeletal yet thick, emaciated yet complete. A set of piercing white eyes, brighter than its skin, poked out from what appeared to be a head, looking over the entire swirling room before it. Its arms and legs hung idly by in the air, twisted and crooked like its wings.

They stood there, looking at it, contemplating it, wondering if they really could beat something like that. And then, over the howling wind, the creature looked down at where they stood and smiled.

" **Welcome to the end of the world,** " Aamodt's voice boomed.


	19. Cruelty and Apathy

Croix and Landen looked up at the massive gleaming monstrosity hovering over the stage, the whirlwind still screeching through the darkened auditorium.

"You're too late," Aamodt's voice rumbled through the theater. "After everything you did, it all amounted toward nothing. Pathetic."

"It's not over yet, Aamodt!" Landen shouted back over the billowing storm.

The transformed wizard laughed, its blue star skin and tattered robes jostling with each cruel cackle. "Your enthusiasm is entertaining, mortal. But I'm afraid no amount of determination or persistence will help you. This world is already mine."

"But we're still standing!" Croix shot back. "If you want to take this world, you'll have to go through us!"

Aamodt chuckled. "An amusing thought, but I think that-"

It was in that instance the wizard suddenly thrust out one of its crooked hands and fired a shattering bolt of lightning directly where they stood. The two boys jumped out of the way just before the force of energy impacted, exploding against the ground and leaving a smoldering hole where the floor had once been.

"Oh dear." The wizard mocked with a sardonic shrug as the two boys got back to their feet. "It looks like I got a little ahead of myself. How about we try this?"

He fired another burst of bright blue energy at their feet, the magic erupting against the ground and sending them hurtling through the air. They slammed into a wall and fell back to the floor in a heap, the twisted wizard laughing as they once again stood up.

"Honestly, though, what are you two even trying to accomplish with this? You know you don't have a chance in all this, you know this is just going to end with you getting killed, so why turn it into a struggle? There's no point."

The two boys gave no response.

"I never did understand your persistence in all this. Despite being faced with so much adversity, so much power, you two continue in this fight of yours. Why? What even provoked you to get involved in the first place? It's not like you're responsible for these people. The majority of them are strangers to you anyway."

"Whatever kindness you try to show to them will never be returned. You have to at least realize that. You're only making yourself vulnerable to these people, and for what? Would they do the same for you? Would they even agknowledge what you've done? I doubt it and anybody with a grasp of reality would as well."

"Not that there's anything wrong with that. Afterall, this world is one built upon cruelty and apathy between creatures. Man or monster, it doesn't matter which. There will always be hatred amongst the living. And no amount of charity or 'love'," Aamodt pronounced the word as if it was the highest form of insult," has the possibility to change that."

The silence was the only reply the transformed wizard received. He scowled, raising his palms into the air to halt the rushing whirlwinds. His body began to gradually hover off the stage like a shimmering specter, form coming to a rest at the darkened chamber's center. The theater was quiet.

"Are you two hiding from me?" He asked as if insulted, beginning to scan through the shadowed rows of seats. "That's hardly going to make a difference. No matter where you go, I'll find you. And then nothing will stand in my way."

"So we do threaten you," the voice of Landen called out from somewhere in the chamber, echoing off the room's acoustics. "That's a little contradictory. Maybe you're not so divine after all."

Aamodt flew towards the source of the words but found only empty blackness. He continued to glide silently through the auditorium, replying with a growing agitation. "I'm willing to admit you've been harder to kill than I thought. Most kids your age would be dead or enthralled by now. But somehow you two have been able to hang on much longer than I would've anticipated."

"And what do you think that means?" Croix's soft voice asked without source.

The wizard flashed his head toward the noise but once again was met emptiness. He could feel his frustration beginning to rise.

"I don't know what it means; I just know that I need to stop you. You've proven yourselves to be trouble enough even when it seems like all possibilities are accounted for. And whether this has been blind luck or lack of oversight on my part, there's nothing you can do now."

"You don't believe that," Landen replied. "If you did, you would've killed us the first chance you had. But something stopped you whenever the thought crossed your mind, something you hadn't felt in years. Fear."

Aamodt, instead of moving toward the disembodied voice, floated in place, his palms tightening. "I am not afraid. Fear is an emotion of mortals, an animalistic response reserved for this too weak to see past it."

Landen asserted. "Don't lie. I saw your mind when you tried to invade mine. Fear was what surrounded your thoughts, controlled your actions. It was almost palpable and was why you severed the mental link before you had any chance to stop me. You were afraid."

The wizard scoffed. "I don't have time for accusations from pitiful creatures such as yourselves. I've transcended the limitations of this world. Your insults mean nothing to me."

"And so you go back to this power of yours," Croix noted. "This power that gives you the strength of a god but unable to overcome two kids like us. Is that what you're afraid of? Losing everything you've worked towards all these years, right before the end?"

Aamodt's soulless eyes narrowed. "You don't know anything about me. What I've had to go through, what I've had to work for to reach this moment. Any attempt at comprehending my existence is useless effort by mortals such as yourselves."

The voice of Landen, while not attached to any apparent entity, seemed to shake its head at the wizard's confident declaration. "You don't believe that, and neither do we. If the pain of others truly is something you feast off of, what would you say about yourself? How much fear have you always carried? How afraid can you be in your moment of triumph?"

"I already told you two, I-am-not-afraid!" He shouted to the room, his final words echoing in his mind, tormenting him with their distorted mockery. Afraid. Afraid. Afraid.

No, he screamed out to himself, clasping both hands to his ears. Stop!

Afraid. Afraid. Afraid.

"Noooo!" Aamodt howled savagely, heaving an enraged bolt of lightning at his thoughts, a nearby wall shattering with an electrified explosion and throwing the two boys finally out of the dark.

"Found you!" The wizard declared as he fired another burst of electricity at them.

Already back on their feet, they ducked out of the projectile's way, sprinting up the left side of the ramp leading towards the exit. Aamodt was just about to fire another volley when the two boys suddenly warped back into darkness, as if never being there in the first place.

"You're only making this worse for yourselves! When I find you, I'll make your deaths as agonizing and painful as possible! You'll be begging for life to finally slip away once I'm done with you."

It was at that moment that something bright and scorching impacted against Aamodt's back, exploding in a dazzling array of sizzling and smoking crimson color. He grunted, more in surprise over anything else, at the sudden sensation on his back. He swung around to where the projectile had come from, his eyes meeting that of Landen aiming his flare gun directly at him. A look of determined defiance was on the boy's face.

Aamodt howled with laughter, floating towards the standing child like a ghostly predator.

"Come on then, mortal. Fire that weapon of yours. It will have no effect. But try, continue with this little game of yours. Make your death amusing."

He was looming over him now, his crooked body stretched above Landen, the twisted arms and wings of light hanging like razored claws over the indignant boy.

The wizard smirked. "A shame that I won't be able to kill the both of you together. It would be a lovingly poetic to this little quest of yours. But it looks like, for now, you're all alone."

"Alone?" Landen repeated. "Hardly."

A compressed burst of wind magic slammed against Aamodt's back, distracting him just long enough as Landen chambered and fired another flare gun round straight into the wizard's outstretched hand. The round exploded in the same spectacular blast of colors, surprising the already stunned wizard.

But despite the sudden impact, he could still very clearly feel the gentle coarseness of metal sliding against his blue star skin, the shimmer of gold in darkness, and the minuscule shift in weight as something very dear to him slipped from his grasp and into the outstretched palm of Landen.

And then the boy was running towards the exit; his hand cupped to his mouth as he sprinted. He shouted something to someone still in the room, the words turning to water before they reached his ears. Did it matter what he was saying? Did anything matter? Because right now, the source of his power, the conduit of his very existence, the one object that still remained from the ancient life he'd once lived, was dashing out the door.

* * *

 **Hey guys, Sion here.**

 **So, as it is glaringly apparent, I haven't posted a story update in just about two months. This has been due in part to other projects, writers block, waning interest in publishing, and an unfortunate jadedness with the Undertale fandom (I'll explain more once the final chapter is posted). I'm very thankful to all of you whom have put up with this inactivity and will try my hardest to get the rest of this story out onto my account.**

 **Either way, here is another chapter with many more along the way once I get down to editing. Until then, I'll see you awesome readers later!**


	20. Charity and Love

The two boys dashed madly out of the theater, the double doors leading out to the school parking lot almost flying off their hinges as they sped past. The cold evening air filled their lungs as they bounded across the concrete walk leading to the sea of parked cars. Just before they reached the first row of vehicles, Landen skidded to a stop and turned back towards the school.

"Landen!" Croix shouted as he too stopped. "What are you doing?! We have to hide! He'll be here any second!"

"We need to wait," his friend explained solidly, "have him see us, make it clear we have the conduit. The more we keep him distracted, the better chance we have in outsmarting him."

Croix looked down at the twin pyramid necklace the human clutched, unconsciously admiring the golden glow it gave off. "Are you sure this is going to work? If it doesn't…"

"It will, trust me."

A distant rushing of wind began to sound from back inside the school. A bright blue glow began to gleam out the auditorium windows, painting the night with its otherworldly light. The two boys could feel a wave approaching.

"Get ready," Landen mumbled.

The front edifice of the theater exploded in a thunderclap of electricity, stone and brick fragments becoming a torrent of debris as it billowed outwards in a storm of rubble. Force slammed harshly against where they stood and nearly knocked them to the rumbling ground. But they held regardless, their eyes focused on the massive smoking hole that had just been formed.

The transformed Aamodt screamed out of the building's huge opening, his twisted blue star wings propelling him across the night sky like a demonic bird of prey. He swooped around them once in a single menacing circle, before rocketing back to earth with outstretched wings, howling fiercely in rage.

He halted just yards from where they stood, hovering paces away with his crooked arms still raised threateningly.

"You have something that belongs to me," the wizard's voice boomed flatly. "Give it. Now."

"And what happens then?" Landen asked with a step forward, holding the trinket up for him to see. "We give it to you, and then you kill us?"

"If you don't give it to me now, I'll rip it from your beaten corpse while your friend watches. As that what you want?" Aamodt gestured to Croix floating beside him, "is that what he wants?"

Croix looked to Landen. The human only nodded.

"And you'd kill me regardless," the monster said with an equal step forward. "And then everyone in Crystal Bay. And who knows how many other people in the world. We're the only ones left who have a chance of stopping that."

The wizard smirked, a murderous look growing in his eyes. "I take it you're not going to make this easy on yourselves." He sighed. "Very well." He began to raise his crooked hands toward them as lightning began to crackle ominously from them.

"Wait!" Landen yelled, holding the trinket out for the wizard to clearly see. Immediately, Aamodt threw his palms back to his sides, fear creeping into his face as he eyed the glimmering object.

"So it's true," the boy continued. "This is what you're afraid of. Your Achilles Heel, your one weakness. This little antique you've been carrying around all these years, keeping you immortal. Your life's tied to it, isn't it? And this entire time you've feared that it would be exploited and all your years of waiting and preparing would amount towards nothing."

"And if we destroyed it," Croix added, "you'd cease to exist. You'd finally feel death after all these years, and you'd never be able to hurt anyone again. Even as a god, you'd still be killed."

Aamodt sardonically rose an eyebrow. "Is that what you're going to do? Kill me?"

"No," Landen shook his head.

"If you transform back to normal and return the portions of the souls you've taken, we'll promise not to hurt you," Croix reasoned. "We're not killers."

"So…" The transformed wizard remarked slyly. "You're sparing me, is that it? Showing mercy? Seeing if I'll surrender?"

They nodded.

"And after everything I've done, everyone I've hurt, you're willing to give me a second chance?"

"Anybody can be good-" Landen started.

"-If they only tried." Croix finished.

Aamodt regarded them oddly for a moment, his eyes flicking to where both of them stood. He seemed in pondering, possibly even consideration. He looked to them with sullen eyes, shoulders slumping sadly.

"You know, you two..." He began with heaviness in his words, "...are stupider than I thought!" He lunged at them, hands like talons as he clawed for what Landen held.

"Landen, now!" Croix said as he held out the end of his grip. The human clasped his hand on it, and the two friends suddenly disappeared into the shadows, Aamodt's twisted digits clawing through thin air.

"Where are you!?" He howled in frustration. "Your magic can't hide you forever!"

Croix and Landen, still holding onto one another, made a beeline for the maze of cars, ducking and weaving through a jungle of painted steel.

"He's right, though," Croix breathed through sprinting pants, "I can't hold up this shadow spell much longer."

Landen looked over his shoulder to see Aamodt in the distance swooping down over the cars, looking in vain for them. "That's fine. It looks like his riled up enough for this to work. Just keep your head down and watch out for any of his attacks."

"What are you going to do then? He knows that you have the conduit."

"Me? I'm gonna do what I always do, tick him off. Once your spell wears off, we'll split up. You go right; I'll go left. From there you just need to keep him distracted so I can get in close."

"What?" Croix said as he tightened his grip on Landen. "I'm not going to leave you like that! Once my magic wears off there won't be anywhere else we can hide. Once he sees you, you'll be dead."

"It's a sacrifice we have to make Croix. The entire world-"

"I'm not leaving you, Landen. Okay? Whatever you're going to do, we're going to do it together."

"Dude now isn't the time for-"

"There you are!" Aamodt's voice hissed overhead, a trail of lightning magic following in his wake, shattering the pavement in a sweeping line of devastation.

They kept on running, neither breaking away from the other as they dashed madly between the cars. A bolt of lightning exploded on the ground in front of them, prompting them to run back the way they came.

"We can't keep running forever, Landen!"

"I know! That's why I need you to leave me! I got this whole thing planned out!"

"A plan isn't going to stop you from getting killed!"

"Yes, it will! Trust me!"

Another bolt of lightning exploded beside them, this time sending both boys tumbling to the unforgiving ground below. Grimacing in pain, they got back up and continued to run.

"I can taste your fear!" Aamodt boomed. "You know this is where it ends!"

"Landen!" Croix wheezed, his words thick with exhaustion. "I can't keep running…!"

"Leave me!" The human shouted back. "You'll only get yourself hurt! Let me do this; I know what I'm doing!"

Lighting impacted right in front of them, throwing the boys opposite directions through the air. Croix tumbled across the blacktop, his clothes tearing as he felt his body moan in pain. Lying in a stunned heap, he looked over at where Landen lay at the other end of the lane.

His friend lied helplessly against the pavement, his figure weakly writhing in pain as the glint of the golden trinket still gleamed in his soft palm.

The wings of Aamodt sounded overhead. The twisted wizard dived out of the sky before coming to a halt above them, eyeing the two with proud triumph.

"And this is where hope dies," he remarked with a cruel grin. "I hope you've at least learned something before I end your pitiful lives. That there's people in the world who can't be saved, people who are who they are. And no amount of mercy or kindness will change the creature that dwells within them. Because that is simply how it is."

He raised an outstretched hand to where Croix lie, a glow of electricity began to shift in his palm. The little monster with straining muscles and wavering strength, pushed himself back into the air, floating weakly off the ground, his staring indignantly up at the wizard.

"Facing death with dignity?" Aamodt chided as the electricity grew. "Might as well. Will give me something to remember you by."

He stood there, waiting, preparing, bracing himself for the oblivion he was soon to meet. He could practically feel the lightning scalding his flesh, crushing his bones, dissipating his being to dust. He could feel it all and stared right back at it, unafraid to the glowing blue demon that flew above him, grinning at the demise of another.

Croix, the voice of Landen called to him. Get ready.

"L-Landen…?" He mumbled. "Where are you?"

We only have one chance. Make this count.

One chance? He replied. One chance for what?

And then he saw it, all of it. He saw the bolt of lightning erupt out of Aamodt's hands; he saw the look of utter ferocity in the ancient child's face; he saw the millenniums of evil flash through his eyes, and he saw the glimmer of gold careening through the air, tossed by the still lying Landen several yards away.

Croix unconsciously fired a burst of his wind magic at the trinket as it floated gingerly through the air, knowing what his part was, pushing it right back into the hand that had clutched it the day the Barrier had first been sealed over Mt. Ebbot, the marks it left still clear across the cruel wizard's palm.

A sharp crack sounded out as the lightning impacted against the twin pyramids. The ancient gold was disintegrated in an instant, its pieces breaking, its bindings splitting, its sheen dulling. In its place was nothing but a shimmering vapor trail and the faint smell of dust.

Aamodt jerked his hand back in horror as he realized what he'd just unknowingly done. He clutched his chest as if straining for breath, backing away from the golden vapor that hung above his life like a falling knife.

"No…" He said in a small voice, a voice that matched that of an innocent child. "This...this can't be. I-I...came so far...waited so long…" He looked to Croix, despair deep in his shimmering face. "I...just wanted to bring them back...my family, my friends...they were taken from me. I...just wanted them back…"

Small cracks were beginning to form in the wizard's blue star skin, bright gleams of white light poking out from each opening. His eyes swept over the cracks on his arms and chest, his face only sinking lower in dejection. He knew what it meant. He didn't have much time.

"I never wanted it to end this way, to become what I am," he continued with sorrowful dejection, still looking at the deepening cracks of light, a dark shadow over his face. "I just wanted them back. And I thought I could do it, that I wouldn't fail them, that we could be with each other again. All those years, all that waiting, wasted for nothing…"

"It wasn't for nothing," Croix crooned. "You, right now, realized that this was your true desire. You didn't want to take over the world, to rule over monsters and humans forever, you just wanted the people you loved back. Deep down, you never were an evil person; you just didn't understand what your heart wanted."

Aamodt looked down at him sadly, the cracks of light growing larger and more numerous across his body. "I've killed people Croix Thurii, monster and human alike. I've stolen the lives of my descendants and fed off the pain of others. How am I not evil?"

"Because you've admitted that you've done these things, and are aware that they weren't right, and hopefully, are sorry for it. And, while this may not mean much, if you really are sorry for everything that's happened, I forgive you...for all of it."

Aamodt was nearly covered in the cracks of light now. He smiled graciously at Croix and nodded. "Thank you, Croix Thurii, for everything."

Aamodt grew brighter and brighter, his entire form becoming a pure body of blinding light. The wind began to howl from all directions once again, converging into the growing white mass in the air that was or had once been Aamodt. A howling sounded out from the mass of light as it imploded inwards, buckling under its force before shattering in a white shockwave of immense power.

Cars began exploding; pavement began cracking, the ground began to buckle and collapse. Croix stood in panicked shock as it seemed the entire world was crumbling around him. He heard something explode beside him, a voice shout to him, a body tackle him, and then...nothing.


	21. Beside the Dying Fires

Even before Croix opened his eyes, he could taste the blood in his mouth. He could feel the cool cracked blacktop against his tattered cloak, and he could hear the gentle crackle of fire beside him.

For a while, he didn't want to get up. A strange feeling of peace pervaded over his mind in what felt like an eternity of it being absent. He could finally think with clarity and look upon the next day with hope instead of dread. Had it really been that long? Had they actually been trying to stop Aamodt for all this time? All in all, it'd probably been only a month but to a kid of his age, it could've been a decade for all he was concerned.

He let out a contented sigh, his chest aching at the heavy breath of air. It tasted like dusty rubble and ash. He coughed to get the residue out of his lungs and laid his head back down against the cool pavement.

"We did it," he said with a small smile forming on his lips, "we actually did it."

He continued to lay there, staring up at the starry night sky as the fire beside him and several others glowed ambiently. Then, without much rhyme or reason, he decided it was time to go home.

Croix rose shakily back into the air, nearly stumbling as his magical essence had trouble sustaining his wounded body in its typically floating posture. After a little bit of trying, though, he was able to steady himself in a stooped but still standing position.

And it was as he stood, that he heard a meek coughing just a few yards away, and a familiar voice call out to him.

"Croix…"

"L-Landen?" The little monster replied rushing toward where the human boy still lived, surrounded by ruined ground and exploded remnants of cars. His body was covered in ash and barely moved while still showing signs of faint life.

Croix gasped when he saw why.

Embedded in the center of his chest, caked in dried and still running blood, was a jagged piece of metal stuck straight through his torso, jutting out of him like a pointed gleam of silver.

"Croix…" Landen called again, coughing with a small moan in pain. "Are you there…?"

Croix could feel the tears already swell as he dashed to his side. He looked down at his friend; they're eyes meeting and holding the other's gaze for a moment.

"Looks like we beat him," Landen grinned slightly.

"Yeah," Croix sobbed, "we did..."

"I heard what you said to him...about forgiveness. Despite everything he did, I'm happy you said that to him. He needed it, especially at that moment."

He nodded but didn't say anything, his eyes instead moving down to the crooked piece of shrapnel inside Landen.

"It's bad...isn't it," the human remarked quietly.

Croix nodded.

"I guess that's my fault then. Trying to play the hero at the last minute, make myself useful while you were doing all the heavy lifting." He wheezed in pain once again and smiled. "I guess it didn't turn out so well in the end."

The little monster's watering eyes looked at him in confusion, his voice still wavering with sobs. "W-What do you m-m-mean by that?"

"You were standing right next to Aamodt before his being shattered. I knew that if it stayed where you were, you'd be fried or crushed in an instant. I tackled you, kept you covered while the entire lot was torn apart. But," His vision drifted to the massive bleeding wound in his chest, "I didn't have anybody to tackle me."

"Y-You saved me?"

The human's face turned serious for a moment as he shook his head. "Don't say it like that. It makes it seem like you did nothing and I did everything. You're the hero in all this, Croix, not me. If it wasn't for what you did, Crystal Bay and life as we know it would be gone. I just did what anybody would've done: helped a friend."

"Don't say that!" Croix shouted in desperation, tears dripping off his cheeks. "You were always there to protect me, to help me when I needed it most. I couldn't imagine what would've happened if we weren't together, holding on like we always do. You're a hero Landen, and the whole world owes you for it."

"Maybe," he said with a string of increasingly weaker coughs, "maybe. But hero or not, I don't have much time left. I can feel it already, the chill, the light…"

"Landen, no! You can't, you can't die! Not now, not like this! I need you!"

"The feeling's mutual, dude...but that's not going to stop what's already started."

"My Mom!" Croix suggested frantically. "She has healing magic! I can go get her; we can save you!"

Landen shook his head. "We're out of time; I'm already too far gone. There's nothing anyone can do for me now."

"Oh, c'mon Landen! There's gotta be something!"

"One thing," his friend struggled at keeping his voice above a whisper, "there's one thing I need to ask of you."

"W-What is it?"

Landen hacked with fading strength, blood flecking out of his mouth. "I always admired your drive, your persistence, your determination. You were able to stick with whatever you put your mind to and was always able to adapt to what life threw at you. You've got potential Croix, more than I or anyone else our age could hope for."

He reached out, clasping a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "Don't go wasting it wishing for me to come back. You're too good for that."

Croix sobbed, looking back at Landen with fresh tears. "I'm not sure if I can do that…"

"Promise me…" Landen whispered. "Promise…"

The little monster gripped his palm tightly, squeezing it as tight as he could. "I promise," he said in reply.

A last, bright smile formed on Landen's lips. "Thank you, Croix...for being my friend…"

And then the smile began to fade, the gentle hand on Croix's shoulder loosen, and the weak breaths ran silent.

Landen Fonten closed his eyes for the last time.

The limp hand on Croix's shoulder slid off him softly, falling without a sound to the cruel earth below. Croix looked to it and the body of his friend it had once belonged to.

All he could do was weep, water rolling down his face in a flurry of sadness, the world around him gradually turning black, the light of the fires and the night extinguished under a black curtain of emptiness.

Nothing mattered to him anymore. Landen Fonten was dead, and he'd died along with him.


	22. The Weight it Carries

Croix's gentle sobs echoed throughout the black emptiness that surrounded him, the cold body of Landen Fonten still lying before him, quiet and still. It was all he could do, a crushing wave of despair smashing into his form, sucking him dry of any purpose or meaning to his life. He was lost and alone. Forever.

"Croix…" A voice echoed to him, one of youth and kindness, sunshine and flower petals, loss and fulfillment, despair and redemption.

The little monster looked up from where Landen lie, tears still streaking down his face. They-he, was in darkness, an endless chamber of nothing that stretched onwards each way his eyes focused. Was this heaven? Was it hell?

He sniffed, wiping the tears from his face as more continued to stream down.

"Croix…" The voice echoed again. "Please, stop crying. It isn't good for you. It'll only make you feel worse."

"L-Landen?" Croix called turning his head every which way. "Is that y-you?"

The voice sighed. "I'm sorry to say that I'm not. But I'm still a friend, and I'm here to help you."

The little monster's tears began to lessen. "Who are you?"

"I'm someone who went through what you're going through. Granted, it's a little bit different. I lost a friend too, a different kind of person than Landen, but a friend nonetheless. What happened from there, well, it's a long story."

There was a pause in the voice, a melancholy creeping into its words. "This isn't about me, though. It's you and Landen who're important in all this. That's why I brought you here."

"W-What are you talking about?"

"You and Landen share a bond never before seen. I can't let something like that die just before you realize what it truly is and the weight that it carries."

"I don't," Croix wiped the few remaining tears from his face, "understand."

A shimmering began to swirl around Landen's still figure, the twisted piece of shrapnel magically disappearing. In its place, rose a crimson heart, floating gently over the dead child, just within Croix's reach.

"His soul…" Croix remarked in awe.

"Yes," the voice confirmed. " But look at it closer. Is something unusual about it?"

Croix peered at it and saw what the voice referred to. The heart, the manifestation of Landen's soul, was only half of one, perfectly split down the middle.

"He's missing the other half," he pointed out, looking around for the source of the voice. "What happened to the other part of his soul?"

Despite not seeing the mysterious speaker's face, he could see a gentle smile in their voice. "You're the other part, Croix. That's why he needs you now more than ever."

The little monster blinked, rising to a hovering position. "I...I still don't understand."

"The bond you two share is of unconquerable strength. A single soul split between two bodies. A monster and a human. Each of you is a part of the other, a singular being existing in two separate places between two separate people. And while this may seem like your souls would be weakened because of this, they are in fact strengthened by this bond and draw off each other as one."

"It didn't make sense to me at first. I thought I was just interpreting it wrong, that it was just an odd murmur of magic. But the longer I watched you two, the more I saw that it was true. Your shared soul, something that's never before happened, is truly a miracle."

Croix shook his head in disbelief. "That doesn't make any sense. We're not the same person. Anybody could see that. I'm a monster; he's a human. How could we share a soul?"

"Despite the bond of your collective soul, each of you has experienced different walks of life. We're more shaped by our environments after all. You must've felt a strength whenever you were together, a completeness between each other. And an odd separation when you weren't."

It...made sense to Croix. They always had been inseparable from each other, always were able to confide in the other, never seemed to be in significant disagreement with one another. And even in their difference, he'd felt an odd similarity between them, like their thoughts and actions were still motivated by the same kind of force. All this time he'd just assumed it to be a coincidence, that they were just good friends. But was there more to it than that?

"How did this happen?" The little monster asked. "How did our souls join like this?"

"They never did, Croix. They were always together. When you two were born, some way, somehow, a soul was divided evenly amongst you two. How it happened I'm not sure, and we never may know why, but that isn't reason enough to disregard how important this is."

"What you two hold may be the final piece for everlasting harmony between monsters and humans. Your bond could have the strength in ensuring that another war between both races never happens again. I can't tell for sure, but I know that you two are destined for great things and that your shared soul should be protected at all costs. That's why you're here."

Croix shook his head hopelessly, feeling the tears well up once again. "It doesn't matter now. Landen's already dead, the bond is broken forever."

"Not yet, Croix. There's still a chance you can save him. You're a part of him just as much as he's a part of you. And you're still alive, which means a part of him is alive as well. But only as alive as you believe him to be."

"H-How's that possible?"

"We all have parts of ourselves we cut off, left to wither, to die. Nobody ends life the way they started it. But a part of Landen persists inside you. You just have to hold onto it."

"How?"

"You need to remember Landen, bring to mind all the times you spent together, remind that portion of Landen still alive that there's a chance. Reach out and find the power of your bond, let it conquer all the darkness you've faced so far."

"I'll…" Croix turned to the soul portion that still levitated over Landen's body, gazing into its bright crimson surface. "I'll do it."

Approaching the soul fragment, Croix reached forward with both grips of his cloak and rested them along the fragment's sides. He felt a strange surge of energy as he did, feeling a strange sensation spread through this being. It calmed him, filled him with clarity, reminded him of what Landen had always done.

With a deep inhale, he closed his eyes and remembered.

He remembered when he and Landen had first met in Kindergarten all those years ago. Without even knowing the other's name, they'd played together the entire first day of school before being picked up by their parents. It was only in their second week together that decided to learn the other's title, only then deciding that it was necessary to know, just to identify the other better.

He remembered their first adventure with Orne when he'd been shy and scared of the older human boy, worried that he'd pick on him or belittle him. Orne had taken this in stride, being especially kind to the little monster and proudly declaring that the homemade fireworks he'd made were just as safe as the ones sold at the store. The bright, unexpected explosion from the first batch still brought a smile to his face.

He remembered the winter when school had been canceled for two consecutive days, giving he and Landen the perfect opportunity to go venturing into the snowy depths of Crystalwood Forest. They'd gotten lost while attempting to trek home and had spent the night huddled under a skinny pine tree as they waited for the comforting light of the sun to rise. He'd never forget the ear shattering lecture his parents had given to him afterward.

But most of all, he remembered the regular times with Landen, when over at each other's house or riding home from school together. The conversations they had while walking around their sleepy hometown or the jokes they made whenever they played video games together. He remembered their favorite movies, their favorite hours of the day, and especially their favorite foods.

Everything, from the miniscule to the major, rushed back to him like a swelling tide of recollection, warming his heart and bringing a joyful tear to his eyes. His hands gripped the soul fragment tightly as he flooded his mind with more and more memories they'd shared.

Being in Khaki Scouts together, filming amateur movies, sledding down driveways, sword fighting with PVC pipes, exploding hot dogs in the microwave, jumping on trampolines, racing RC cars, and a hundred other magic moments they'd shared in the eternity it felt like they'd known each other.

"That's it!" The voice congratulated excitedly. "Look!"

Croix opened his eyes and gasped in astonishment. The soul fragment of Landen's was gradually descending back towards where his body lied, eventually materializing back through his chest with a wisp of energy.

Instantly, Landen's body began to stir, his face wrinkling as if between a dream and awakening. He jostled slightly before smacking his lips lazily and rolling back over in a slumber.

The little monster felt his eyes widen. "He's...alive?"

The voice chuckled, echoing further than before. "Well, he's sleeping now, but yes, he's alive."

"Then what happens now? Are we supposed to stay here?"

"As much as I would love to talk with you guys and find out everything I can about you, I'm afraid not. You two need to get back home. But don't worry, I'll be watching. And hopefully, we'll be able to meet again soon."

"Wait!" Croix shouted, his vision beginning to fade around the edges. "Don't leave just yet! I didn't get to ask your name!"

But there was no reply from the voice. And a few moments later, Croix's vision faded to white.


	23. Epilogue

The two friends were awoken by members of the audience, now free of Aamodt's control, concerned and confused as to the destruction which had unknowingly appeared. Within minutes Crystal Bay Junior High was surrounded by firefighters, policemen, and EMTs alike. Past the few cuts and scrapes the duo had, there were few injuries among the crowd in attendance.

Fires were put out, rubble was cleared, loved ones were called, and a pervading question of 'how' dominated the minds of everyone but Croix and Landen. When questioned by the authorities that night, they claimed ignorance to the encounter, keeping details vague but believable, knowing what they'd truly experienced would've simply been cast away as nonsense. Despite the confusion as to why Landen carried with him a satchel of medical supplies and a flare gun, it was determined that in no way could the boys have decimated the interior and exterior of the theater along with half of the parking lot.

They were sent home that night, Croix with his mom, Landen alone on his bike, happy that they'd made it through alive.

Days passed by, and Aamodt was nowhere to be found. Rumors swirled around school; calls were made to his home, and eventually, police came to investigate. What they found was an empty house, a 'For Sale' sign displayed on the front lawn, and not a trace of the occupants that had once lived there. Some questioned if he'd ever lived there at all.

Landen never mentioned his momentary demise, giving hint that he may have no memory of the encounter to begin with. That being said, Croix could sense the thought somewhere in his friend's mind, the deeply traumatic experience refusing to leave him entirely.

More days passed and reconstruction began on the damaged sections of the school. The two friends chose a particularly starry Friday night to comb among the fenced off ruins in search of the gold trinket the child in black had derived his essence from. Not a remnant was found of the mysterious conduit, furthering their assumption that the vile artifact was destroyed for good. They prayed that that was the truth.

The play, The Lonely Wizard was well received on its opening night, but the fact that the theater had been wrecked, and its lead actor was missing ended any chance of a second performance from occurring, at least for the foreseeable future.

Ms. Velltri was able to overcome her corruption of Aamodt's control along with the rest of his minions. And while the children were able to quickly shake away the feelings the once twisted wizard had left with them, the kind Ms. Velltri held onto the guilt and pain much longer than she would've liked.

Working with Croix, she was able to confront her darker side, promising to seek help in extinguishing the hidden portion of her personality she'd kept hidden for so long. She as well knew that there was more to Aamodt than the majority of Crystal Bay believed, personally having her own theories on the true nature of the child.

It was several weeks later, while sitting in Croix's basement watching _Deadliest Fighter_ , that Landen turned to his friend during a commercial break.

"You know, Croix," he began casually, "it's been about a month now since that whole Aamodt thing."

Croix nodded. "Yeah, it has been. Is something on your mind about it?"

The human shrugged, leaning back on the couch they sat on. "I don't know. I just always feel strange whenever I think about it. Is it dread? Happiness? Something else? I don't know, but it just feels like something's changed after all of it was over, that how things used to be aren't ever going to be the same. And it kind of makes me sad."

Croix was quiet for moment as an ad for Mettaton Squares Cereal began to play on the screen. Through the bright flashes of pink and glittery silver, he looked back to his friend.

"I've felt the same way too, Landen. But in a different sort of way. I know that things are always changing, are always moving forward from where we started. But I feel like what we learned, what we went through, has changed us for the better. It made us wiser, more capable, maybe a bit more cautious, but stronger in every regard."

"I...never thought of it that way, dude." He chuckled to himself. "Maybe I'm just too sentimental."

"Yeah," Croix grinned, "maybe you are."

With a playful nudge from his friend, the commercial break finally ended, returning to their program. What followed was a marathon of weapon statistics, mock battles, and incredibly cheesy acting. Everything from Knights, Ninjas, Pirates, and Samurai battled it out in classic low budget action.

They laughed, they speculated, they commented on their favorite show, enjoying not only the ridiculous content, but as well the presence of each other. So much had happened in just a short period, it was nice for the both of them just to sit down and enjoy the serenity for once. They both deserved it, the task of saving the world offering some compensation after all.

 **The End**

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Well, that's it. The final chapter finally released. As I mentioned in a previous update, this will more than likely be my last Undertale story for a while or maybe forever.**

 **I sincerely can't stand the lack of originality and relative stagnation that has plagued this fandom since it first got off the ground. Of course, there've been a few great works here and there, but the majority of what's been released follows a repetitive outline of endless AUs, self-inserts, Ask the Main Characters, All-Main-Characters-living-in-the-same-house-slice-of-life, or a horrid combination of all four.**

 **I've always been one to believe that OCs and expansions on pre-existing storylines can create some of the most interesting fan works out there (Star Wars Expanded Universe being the best example), while as well keeping the fandom alive with fresh material. I take this severe drought of quality content as a disheartening sign that the Undertale fandom might just be dying, or worse so, gradually killing itself. I loved the game to death when I played it and still do, but I have no desire to contribute to a genre I can no longer stand.**

 **But that isn't to say that I'm done with the universe and characters I've written about for nearly a year. In fact, I've been writing a sequel (almost complete) since about June and have the full intention of making more stories along the same vein. In hindsight, just making an entirely original universe with no ties to Undertale should've been my primary intention from the very beginning.**

 **So yeah, that's just about it. I know I've never been very good at communicating with you guys, but words cannot describe how appreciative I am for all the wonderful people who've put up with me for so long. Your support and interest in this project are what kept it alive and well. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart, and I hope I was able to keep you all entertained along these crazy past few months.**

 **Anyway, this is Sion, signing off.**


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